The Power of Friendship
by Steel Sword and Silver Bow
Summary: Two unlikely companions, Legolas and Aragorn, go on a scouting mission for Elrond and Gandalf to the Misty Mountains. But when they underestimate the enemy, they must suffer capture and imprisonment, and know not what evils will befall them...
1. Chapter 1: Misunderstandings

_**Summary:** When Elrond and Gandalf find that Sauron's forces are gathering in the Misty Mountains and Rhovanion, they send two unlikely companions—Legolas and Aragorn—on a scouting mission. But when Legolas and Aragorn underestimate the enemy, they are captured and must suffer imprisonment in the dark depths of the mountains, and they know not what evils will befall them…   
  
**Disclaimer:** Well, we do technically own Lord of the Rings because we own the books…but, if you wanna get all TECHNICAL…we don't, ok?   
  
**Chapter 1: Misunderstandings**_   
  
The sun rose silently over Rivendell. Elrond stood in the pavilion, and Gandalf the Grey rode up after his long journey.   
  
"What have you found?" the elf asked.   
  
"What I have found confuses me. Sauron's forces have made progress, as we suspected. But what their goal is, I do not know." The wizard looked up to the balcony. Elrond turned and saw nothing.   
  
"Who was it?"   
  
The wizard smiled. "It was Aragorn. He is coming down. I must speak with him." Gandalf looked to Elrond again. "Thranduil's messenger should arrive around midday." Then he went to meet with Aragorn.   
  


~~~~~~

  
  
Legolas urged his horse to go faster. He had been riding for three days now and was near to Imladris. Gandalf and Lord Elrond had asked Thranduil if he would send an elf to help them scout. Everyone knew Mirkwood elves were the best trackers in Middle-earth. He hoped to be at Imladris by at least midday. He wondered what had happened to make two of the most powerful people in Middle-earth call a meeting…  
  
_"Noro lim, Alagos, Noro lim!"_   
  


~~~~~~

  
  
"It's wonderful to see you, Gandalf!" greeted Aragorn.   
  
"And you too! I only wish our meeting was in a happier hour."   
  
Aragorn looked suspiciously at Gandalf. "I am only confused as to why you have come. You have been speaking with Lord Elrond and I can see that you are troubled. Elrond has asked Elladan and Elrohir to be at a meeting today, and that there will also be a messenger there from Thranduil of Mirkwood. I was not asked to be there."   
  
Gandalf was unsure of what to say. "I am sorry, Aragorn. Elrond has sent word to Thranduil because there is an important task to be done. I do not know why he has not asked you to be present at today's meeting."   
  
"I suppose Lord Elrond does not deem me worthy to enough to carry out this task," said Aragorn.   
  
"Elrond loves you as a son. I do not think that he has done this because he does not trust you."   
  
"I have proven my worth in battle," he answered in a bitter tone. "I know of my true lineage. I am no longer a child, at least not by the standards of my own people." At that moment Elrond passed by, and acknowledged the two with a nod of his head. Aragorn's gaze followed him until he disappeared into the main hall. "He has said that he counts me as an equal among his sons. Yet I see that he would sooner put his trust in any elf than in me." With that, Aragorn left, leaving Gandalf alone in the pavilion.   
  


~~~~~~

  
  
"My Lord Elrond, you have a visitor," reported Elrond's chief advisor.   
  
Elrond turned to look at him. "It must be Thranduil's messenger. Where is he?"   
  
"Just outside, waiting for you in the courtyard."   
  
Elrond nodded. He made his way out to the courtyard. A young elf clad in green stood there, grooming his horse.   
  
"Legolas!" said Elrond, surprised. "I did not expect Thranduil to send his own son!"   
  
Legolas smiled and bowed. "I am always willing to come to Rivendell and do whatever you ask of me, my lord."   
  
"The meeting will take place after luncheon. I apologize you do not have much time to rest, but this is urgent. I will have a servant take you to your room if you wish, but I daresay you know your way."   
  
_"Ceru u fuio nia ha,_ Brannon Elrond."   
  
"Very well, I apologize once again for the lack of hospitality. I have to tell you, I was surprised your father sent his only son…"   
  
Legolas' face showed no emotion and he gave no reply other than, _"Hannen le,_ my lord. I will take my leave now. I do not wish to keep you from important matters."   
  
"Yes, of course," said the Lord of Imladris. Legolas bowed again and turned to a different path.   
  
When he arrived at his room he sighed and put his pack on the floor. It was a large room near the twins' rooms. It had an overview of the valley and was very bright. He washed up and slipped on clean clothes. He brushed his hair and re-braided it. Then he opened his door and headed to the dining room to meet with Elrond.   
  
He arrived and saw Lord Elrond, Gandalf, and Elladan and Elrohir. Their faces were grim. Legolas sat down quietly.   
  
"Legolas," said Gandalf. "We have reason to believe Sauron is coming back into power."   
  
"What?" exclaimed Legolas.   
  
"We have found parties of Orcs and Goblins around the Misty Mountains and Rhovanion. We-"   
  
"Rhovanion? When was this discovered? I planned to send these three to the Misty Mountains. I need at least two scouts for both places!" said Elrond.   
  
"Elladan and I can go to Rhovanion," said Elrohir.   
  
"I'll need someone to go to the Misty Mountains." Elrond said worriedly.   
  
"I will go, my lord, if you will send me." Legolas offered. Gandalf turned to him.   
  
"Legolas, this is a dangerous mission. I would not send you alone."   
  
Legolas looked from him to Elrond.   
  
"Who, then, will you send with me?" inquired Legolas.   
  
  
"No!" Elrond attempted to avoid the wizard's gaze.   
  
"Elrond…"   
  
"No! He's too young. He's not ready."   
  
"Elrond…"   
  
Elrond sighed. "Bring him in."   
  
Elrohir stood up. "I'll get him, Ada." He stepped away and opened the door.   
  
Elrohir stepped out the door and almost ran into Aragorn. "Estel! What are you doing here?"   
  
"I was…" Aragorn fell silent.   
  
"Don't tell me you were eavesdropping!"   
  
"Nay! I was…"   
  
"You were!"   
  
Aragorn winced. "Don't tell Ada."   
  
Elrohir laughed. "I won't. I would have done the same. Now come, we must wait for a few minutes before we go back inside."   
  
Aragorn looked relieved. They waited for ten minutes before returning.   
  
"Legolas," said Elrond, "This is Estel. He will be your companion to the Misty Mountains." Legolas looked the man up and down. He gave Gandalf a look. For awhile, all was silent. Finally Gandalf broke the uneasy silence.   
  
"Well," he said. "I suppose that concludes this meeting. You leave tomorrow at daybreak. Aragorn, come with me. I will tell you about what we have been discussing." Elrohir gave Aragorn a sly look. Then Gandalf left with him.   
  
Immediately, Legolas turned to Elrond. "You expect me to travel with HIM?!"   
  
"He is a man of noble lineage!"   
  
"That does not make any less treacherous!"   
  
"Legolas, give him a chance! Contrary to what your father may have taught you, not all men are bad. Just give him a chance…"   
  
"I will, Lord Elrond…but I cannot promise you anything." Legolas replied slowly.   
  
"Thank you," replied Elrond. "I suppose that's all I can ask."   
  
Legolas stood up. "I take my leave. I must prepare." He left the room. As he left he began to look for Gandalf. He knew he was speaking with the human. He wished to find out the exact situation. He was just about to give up twenty minutes later when he turned a corner and nearly ran into Estel. He merely nodded to him, and was about to leave but Estel stopped him.   
  
"Legolas…"   
  
"Yes?"   
  
"If you are looking for Gandalf, he is up in his quarters."   
  
"What if Gandalf is not the one I seek?" Legolas' voice was defiant.   
  
Aragorn's eyes flashed angrily, yet he kept his voice steady. "I know that he is." Legolas said nothing. He merely fixed his gaze on Aragorn. Then he finally spoke.   
  
"No man can know what I think."   
  
"I am not inferior to you, Legolas!" Aragorn retorted angrily. "I saw from the moment we were introduced that you thought of me in that way. But now, I am your companion, therefore your equal. You will not treat me as someone inferior."   
  
Legolas narrowed his eyes. He could hardly control his rage. "I am the son of Thranduil, King of Mirkwood. Who are you to speak to me in such a manner?"   
  
"Ask that of Gandalf." Aragorn said. Then he left.   
  


~~~~~~

  
  
Legolas stood alone in the hall silently seething. _How dare the human speak to me in such a manner! And what did he mean anyway? "Ask that of Gandalf"?_ He began to walk, not caring where he was going. He did not like the idea of anyone knowing what he was thinking; especially a human. He slightly toyed with the idea of abdicating the mission. However, he quickly threw that idea away. He would not disappoint Gandalf or Lord Elrond.   
  
In fact, he already felt slightly ashamed of himself. He had let his stubborn streak rise to the surface, and his pride got in the way. He supposed he would apologize to the human; yes, perhaps he might. In the meantime, however, he realized he was in front of Gandalf's room.   
  
He knocked lightly and awaited the answer. After waiting for what seemed like far too long, he opened the door.   
  
Gandalf was in a deep sleep. Legolas needed to speak with him, but to wake him seemed a terrible thing to do. He took a step forward, then turned to leave. Suddenly, he heard a groan and saw Gandalf getting up.   
  
"Yes, Legolas?"   
  
"Mithrandir, I am so sorry! I did not mean to wake you."   
  
The wizard laughed. "It is all right, my dear elf. What troubles you?"   
  
Legolas went and sat down next to him. How did Gandalf know that he was troubled? Valar, everyone knew what he was thinking these days.   
  
"Well? Legolas?"   
  
"I am confused about the human, Estel. We have spoken, and not it seems that neither of us is looking forward to being companions. Tell me, what is his true name? I do not think it is Estel."   
  
Gandalf raised his eyebrows. "No. No, perhaps not. But neither is it my place to tell you. All I will say for now is he is no mere ranger, and it would do you well to remember that. I think your journey may pass much easier It would also do you well to keep your patience and give him a chance, eh? Now if you don't mind, I'll be getting back to my nap and I suggest you do the same, princeling. You have to get up quite early tomorrow.   
  
Legolas nearly rolled his eyes. "Early? Nay, not early in my father's home. I am practically sleeping in!"   
  
"Yes, well, all the same. I have a feeling you won't be getting much sleep."   
  
Legolas looked at him suspiciously, then took his leave. He went down to dine with the Elves. During the meal, he looked around for Estel but found him not. Well, he could apologize the next morning. After eating, he went upstairs to his quarters and fell into a troubled sleep.   
  


~~~~~~

  
  
The next morning, Aragorn awoke early and knelt before his mother's grave. He looked into the eyes of the stone statue, and asked silently for her blessings, as he always did before his journeys.   
  
Aragorn felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He turned, and saw Arwen Undómiel, daughter of Elrond. He stood and took her hands in his. They stood silently, enveloped in a simple moment of love and trust. Then Arwen kissed Aragorn lightly on the cheek and left him alone.   
  
He watched her leave. Suddenly, Aragorn was aware of another presence in the garden. He turned around, but saw no one there. He shook his head, bewildered, and turned back around. He barely held back an exclamation of surprise as he involuntarily stepped backwards.   
  
Legolas hid a smile and said, "I'm sorry, did I startle you?"   
  
Aragorn replied defiantly, "No!" Knowing he _had_ been startled. He had thought he finally knew how to hear an elf. "What do you want anyway?" he asked, not bothering to be polite. He had not forgotten their fight earlier.   
  
Legolas' eyes flashed as he tried to keep his temper in check. "Actually," he said icily. "I came to apologize for the way I acted earlier, but apparently forgiveness is not an easy thing for men."   
  
"Legolas, I-" but the elf had left the garden.   
  
Aragorn sighed and sat down, feeling very alone and regretting his harsh words. As soon as everyone was ready they would be leaving, and he was still at no better terms with Legolas.   
  
"Aragorn?"   
  
He looked up to see Gandalf's familiar face. "Gandalf."   
  
"Come, my friend, you have to get ready."   
  
"I know, I know."   
  
"I saw everything."   
  
"You always see everything." Aragorn said with a smile. "I don't know how, but you always do."   
  
"What are you going to do about him?" asked the Istar.   
  
Aragorn sighed. "I don't know…apologize, I guess. That seems to be all we are saying to each other…Gandalf, do you know why he hates he me so much?"   
  
Gandalf smiled encouragingly. "Do not take it personally, Aragorn. All Mirkwood Elves are highly distrustful of other races. Especially King Thranduil, who taught his son no different. No doubt you know Legolas is the Prince…hmm." He finished as thought talking to himself.   
  
"Gandalf," Aragorn asked curiously, "Why are they so mistrustful?"   
  
"Ah. That, my dear boy, is another tale to tell. One we do not have time for right now. For the moment I suggest you get to the horses. Thranduil's son does not care for tardiness. He must get it from his father, though he is not always on time either," Gandalf mused to himself, as a smile tugged at his lips. "In any case, take care of yourself, Aragorn."   
  
Aragorn smiled. "Thank you." He went to ready his horse.   
  
He found Legolas in the stables. The elf was smiling, and speaking quietly to his horse He did not seem to notice Aragorn as he walked in and started to tend his horse, Brethil.   
  
Brethil was restless. Legolas heard her, and saw Aragorn. He kept quiet, though, to observe how he would handle it.   
  
Aragorn took the horse's head in his arms and cradled it gently. He began to speak to him in Elvish, his voice hardly more than a whisper. Slowly, Brethil calmed down.   
  
Legolas watched this with interest. It was obvious that this man had lived amongst the Elves for some time, because he knew both their language and their ways. He smiled to himself. Aragorn then started to look around for the pack that he carried with him, for he always left it in the stable.   
  
"Are you looking for your pack?" asked Legolas.   
  
Aragorn turned to him. "Do you have it?"   
  
"Nay."   
  
"Do you know where it is?"   
  
"Yes."   
  
"Where?"   
  
"Elrohir took it."   
  
"Why?"   
  
"I know not." Legolas mounted his horse.   
  
"Where are you going?" asked Aragorn. The elf did not answer. Aragorn looked up to him. "Legolas…I am sorry for the way I acted earlier. It was wrong."   
  
Legolas hesitated for a moment, then replied. "I accept your apology." He looked out of the stables. "Well, Brannon Elrond asked that we go out front. We are leaving soon." He then galloped away.   
  
Aragorn looked over at Brethil. Though Legolas had forgiven him, there still existed an unnatural tension between them.   
  


~~~~~~

  
  
Legolas rode out, and found Elrohir and Elladan quietly looking through Estel's pack. A smile tugged at his lips and he jumped down from Alagos. While they were intently looking through his pack, he snuck up behind them. He waited for a few moments before commenting, "Having fun?"   
  
The twins both jumped and looked behind them guiltily. Upon seeing Legolas they breathed a sigh of relief and Elrohir said, "Valar, Legolas. You really need to stop sneaking up on people."   
  
Legolas laughed and asked, "What were you two doing with his pack, anyway?"   
  
They smiled sheepishly and replied in unison, "Nothing."   
  
"I'm sure," was Legolas' reply. "I hate to ruin your fun, but we do have to leave sometime this millennia. So I'll be having his pack back." He gave a mock stern look and the twins stuffed everything back in and said, "Oh, Legolas, how touching. Looking out for your new friend?" they mocked.   
  
Legolas grabbed the bag and replied, "No! Of course not. I just wish to leave while it's still early."   
  
They laughed and said, "Safe journey, Legolas. Come home in one piece."   
  
"Don't worry, I will. You take care of yourselves also." Then he turned away and jumped back on his horse, carrying Aragorn's pack in his hand. He rode toward the gates to meet with Elrond.   
  
As he was riding away, Elladan turned to his brother. "Think they will ever learn to get along?"   
  
"If you ask me," responded Elrohir. "They are both too stubborn for their own good. But I think, also, that if they do learn to get along, they will become the best of friends. If they don't then they will become enemies. I think they will both come around to be closer than any of us could have ever imagined."   
  
Elladan nodded his head. "It seems Legolas has already become more forgiving and kind to Estel. I highly doubt that if Legolas had met him just a few minutes ago, he would have helped him get his pack back. It seems he has already beginning to care about Estel."   
  
Elrohir agreed. "Yes, it seems Estel has that effect upon people. Now we should get going; they are not the only ones leaving this morning."   
  


~~~~~~

  
  
Not long after, Aragorn, Legolas, Elladan and Elrohir were gathered to depart for their journeys. Elrond and Mithrandir were there, also, to bid them farewell.   
  
"May you always travel in safety." said Elrond.   
  
"And if you should encounter any problems, report directly back to Imladris," added Mithrandir.   
  
The four bowed. After saying a few departing words to one another, the two groups went their separate ways. As they started to ride away, Legolas remembered Aragorn's pack. He took it out and gave it back to him. Aragorn received it with a quiet: "_Hannen le_*" and continued to ride on in silence.   
  


~~~~~~

  
  
Legolas's and Aragorn's rode led them east. They rode swiftly and silently, taking short rests to eat and to sleep at night. As night fell, they found a spot and set up camp.   
  
As they sat down, Aragorn pulled some dried fruit out of his pack. As he was doing this, Legolas noticed for the first time the ring on his finger. A jewel there was, and two snakes, one devouring the other. The elf recognized the ring. _Could it be that this man, this ranger and fosterling of Elrond, be Isildurs heir?_ Legolas knew that Elrond had fostered many of that line in Rivendell. If so, this was the one destined to inherit the throne of Gondor, destined to rule the world of men, if he should accept that as his fate.   
  
He silently pondered this as he too ate some dried fruit from his pack. He laid down upon the ground and looked up at the _elenath_*. After laying there for a few minutes he sat up. He turned and saw Estel looking at him.   
  
"What is it?" Legolas asked.   
  
Aragorn shook his head. "Nothing."   
  
"Aragorn."   
  
Aragorn looked up startled. "What did you say?"   
  
"That's your name, is it not?"   
  
He looked confused. "Yes, but…how do you know that?"   
  
"You are the son of Arathorn, Isildur's heir."   
  
Aragorn was silent for a moment, then said, "Yes."   
  
Legolas nodded. "I suspected so." The elf did not speak again. After awhile, Aragorn lay on the ground and fell asleep.   
  
Once the man was sleeping, Legolas stood and walked to the edge of the hill where their camp was. He looked out. The view was beautiful, and the night was still. That was good, because he had a lot of thinking to do.   
  
Expectations ran high for the Prince of Mirkwood. Lately, he had become slightly uncomfortable with his title. In fact, his father had almost not allowed him to come on this mission. He had planned to send another of his court, because a simple scouting mission seemed "below" his noble son. he had thought of giving up the throne, but he loved his father dearly and knew that he would be dreadfully disappointed, not to mention distraught. And now, on top of these troubles, he had to travel with the human Aragorn, of whom he had mixed feelings.   
  
Legolas heard a rustling sound. He smiled slightly. It was, of course, the human. Men tended to make much noise, even when trying to be quiet and discreet. The same was true of dwarves, and it always made Legolas smile.   
  
The elf turned and waited. He knew that any minute Aragorn would come out. Sure enough, he did.   
  
"I heard you coming," Legolas said.   
  
"I figured you would." answered Aragorn. He went and stood by the elf, admiring the view. "The night is very quiet." He said.   
  
"It is a beautiful night," said Legolas. "Quiet, beautiful days and nights are rare during times like these."   
  
Aragorn sighed. "The times will get worse before they get better."   
  
"That is true of many things."   
  
Aragorn looked slightly confused but said nothing to his statement. Instead he asked, "How did you find out my name? Did Gandalf tell you?"   
  
Legolas smiled and replied, "Nay."   
  
"Then how did you find out?"   
  
"Your hand," said Legolas, amused when Aragorn looked at his hand confused. "I saw the Ring of Barahir," said Legolas.   
  
"Oh."   
  
"You are lucky," said Legolas wistfully. "You grew up in the house of Elrond with a caring family. I know Brannon Elrond must have been a wonderful father and the twins as brothers."   
  
"Do you not have a caring family?" questioned Aragorn.   
  
"I suppose you could say that my family was caring, but in a much different way." The elf paused. "How did you come to live in Rivendell?"   
  
"I was brought to Rivendell by my mother, many years ago." He said no more.   
  
"Oh."   
  
"I know that life in Mirkwood is very rough, especially for the King and his son. You must lead a very difficult life."   
  
Legolas nodded. For a moment they were quiet, silently thinking to themselves. Then Legolas started singing to himself quietly.   
  
"What are you singing?" Aragorn asked.   
  
Legolas smiled. "It is a song about the stars. A dear friend taught it to me." Then the smile faded. "But he has been gone for some time now. How he loved the stars. But back in Mirkwood he could never find peace."   
  
"What happened to him?"   
  
"He went in search of solitude, a place where he could abide in peace. However he found it not and he was led into peril. He passed away, to a place where he is forever gone from my sight." Legolas looked over at Aragorn, a deep sorrow in his eyes. "The one I mourn was my brother. This was his song."   
  
And Legolas' clear, resonant voice sounded through the night.   
  
"_The stars are shining overhead  
Silent as a prayer  
A soft light in the darkness Beautiful and fair  
  
Oh, why doust thou who made the stars  
Not create a perfect world?  
Why must we all wait in darkness  
As hateful events unfurl?  
  
If only the world could be at peace  
And simply watch the stars  
They would see how much better the earth could be  
Had it not been marred_  
  
  
Then his voice faltered and he fell silent.   
  
Aragorn looked over at Legolas, and realized that the elf had trusted him with this story about his brother; a story that brought back emotional memories for him. Again Aragorn felt a bond between them, only instead of the bond of tension that existed there before, they were now connected by friendship.   
  


~~~~~~

  
  
Legolas looked to Aragorn and said softly, "The hour grows late. I suggest you get some sleep. We have yet a long journey ahead of us. _Idh mae_…Aragorn."   
  
Aragorn looked to the elf and said, "_Hannen le,_ Legolas."   
  
"I will take the watch tonight." said Legolas.   
  
Aragorn stood up and began to walk away. He went through the bushes and Legolas stared after him for a long time afterwards, pondering their conversation. He did not know why, but he trusted this human enough to tell him about his brother. He missed Gildur desperately. They had always been close, and at the death of their mother, they have become even closer.   
  
He looked up to the stars and whispered, "I miss you, _muindor nin_*."   
  


~~~~~~

  
  
The sun rose over the Misty Mountains, illuminating everything with a warm, golden light. Legolas kneeled down next to a sleeping Aragorn and softly shook him. "Aragorn…Aragorn…"   
  
The human moved slightly but did nothing else. "Estel…" Legolas said his name softly again.   
  
"Five more minutes, Ada," Aragorn moaned.   
  
Legolas rolled his eyes. He took a container and filled it up with some water he found earlier. A clear stream flowed just a ways away and Legolas had visited it early that morning.   
  
He shook Aragorn once again and said, "Aragorn! Wake up!"   
  
When the human still did nothing Legolas grabbed the water and threw it on him. Aragorn jerked up and let out a stream of curses. His eyes focused on Legolas right as the elf muttered something about it working well on dogs.   
  
"Excuse me?" he asked.   
  
"What?"   
  
"Did you just call me a dog?"   
  
"Nay! Of course not!"   
  
"Oh…" Aragorn got up silently and started to walk away.   
  
"Where are you going?" Legolas asked. But he did not get a reply. He followed Aragorn and found the man putting water in a container at the stream. Without warning, he turned around and threw it all over the elf.   
  
Legolas gasped. He had been caught off-guard. He gave Aragorn a dirty look, and saw that the man was laughing and pointing. Legolas pushed him into the stream.   
  
Aragorn stood, wiping himself off. He splashed some more water on Legolas playfully, then the two of them headed back to camp and started to ready their horses. They packed up and started to ride again.   
  
They kept riding, until they found a narrow trail leading into the mountains. There they slowed their horses, and rode one behind the other.   
  
"I can smell Orc filth," whispered Legolas, "They are not far. I can hear their voices, now, speaking in their accursed tongue. Can you hear them?"   
  
"Nay. I have not the keen hearing of the Elves." Legolas smiled, slightly amused. "They are not far," he repeated. "Even you should be able to hear them soon." He suddenly stopped and lay down upon the ground with his ear to the ground. After a few minutes he scrambled back up, notching an arrow.   
  
"Arda is groaning with disgust. Can you not hear it?" asked Legolas. "They are coming."   
  
Aragorn's eyes widened. "How many? Can you tell?" He pulled his sword out of his sheath and readied it.   
  
"I cannot tell, but there are many. Hide in the bushes over there. Perhaps we can ambush them. I will be in the tree above you."   
  
Before the human could say a word, the elf was already climbing the tree with a skill unrivaled by any he had ever seen. As he hid in the bushes, prepared to jump out at any moment, he looked upwards. He could not see or hear the elf at all. "Legolas?" he asked.   
  
"I'm right here, Aragorn," came a voice above him. Before he could reply he heard other voices.   
  
"Come on, you maggots, faster! We don't have time to go at the speed you're goin'!" a fetid voice came. Many shuffling sounds and other noises came also. Soon they were within sight. There were not many in sight, only about twenty strong.   
  
"Aragorn," said Legolas. "Go!"   
  
Aragorn leaped out of the bushes, his blade glinting in the sun. With a mighty cry he went fearlessly into battle. Arrows flew from the tree, and soon the twenty Orcs were slaughtered. Then, suddenly, more harsh voices were heard.   
  
"Aragorn, get out of there!" yelled Legolas. The Orcs were many, and would soon overrun him.   
  
"Aragorn!"   
  
Aragorn was dimly aware of the elf's voice. He saw his enemies, believed their number to be few, and Legolas saw much further, and could see that their number was far greater than the ranger perceived. There was little he could do; his arrows were almost spent.   
  
Aragorn charged forth. Legolas used the few arrows he had left, then turned to get down from the tree. But when he turned a rough hand was clapped over his mouth.   
  
"You have been discovered, elf," said the Orc. "Your comrade will not last long. What are you going to do? Your arrows are spent."   
  
Legolas whipped out his Elven blades and slew the Orc where he stood. More followed into the tree. Legolas jumped up higher and looked for a way to get to the ground. As he got even higher he took a chance and jumped to a different tree. From there he jumped down and ran towards the battle; to where Aragorn was. Suddenly, he stopped and watched in horror as an Orc was about to behead the human. "Estel!" he cried, but Aragorn did not hear. Thinking quickly he grabbed one of his arrows from a dead Orc and strung his bow. The arrow went whistling through the air right as the Orc knocked Aragorn out. A millisecond later the Orc fell to the ground with an arrow between his eyes.   
  
He began to viciously kill any Orc in his way, but soon a squalid voice spoke to him. "Put down your weapons, elf scum, or we will kill the man!" When Legolas hesitated he snapped, "Now!"   
  
Legolas slowly dropped his weapons and his world went black.   
  


~~~~~~

  
  
_Elvish translations:   
  
**Hannen le**: Thank you  
**Elenath**: Starry host/All the stars of heaven  
**Idh mae**: Rest well  
**Muindor nin**: My brother  
  
We love you! Please give us nice reviews! We'll try to update soon, but it takes forever for us to type the chapters up and we have tons of homework. ;)   
  
~Steel Sword and Silver Bow_


	2. Chapter 2: Dark Imprisonment

_**General Ramblings:** Ok! Since we know everyone absolutely adores us, we've posted chaptre (chapter spelled cool) 2! Enjoy…grab a popcorn, maybe some beer…or wait, you actually shouldn't…come to think of it, we strongly advise you don't. (No, we are NOT conceited, well…I'M not, but maybe Sara is. nooo u just dumbhead (Sara.) Whatever. ANYWHO, on with the actual story, eh Precious?)   
  
**Warnings:** Er, ok, this chapter is rated PG-13 to R for the violence. You have been warned.   
  
**Disclaimer:** No. Just, no. OK?   
  
**Chapter 2: Dark Imprisonment.**_

  
  
Aragorn awoke in a dark cell deep in the Misty Mountains. His head was throbbing, and at first his memory failed him. The, suddenly, everything came rushing back. The orcs; the ambush.   
  
He pushed himself to his feet and observed his surroundings. The chamber held many cells, and was dimly lit by torches. It was made of stone, and it was plain to see that it as very deep within the mountain. Suddenly, Aragorn remembered Legolas. _Could they have gotten the elf?_ Legolas had been in the tree, silently shooting arrows but completely hidden from sight. Aragorn did not see him in any of the cells. Yes, he must have gotten away. That was the logical explanation. Aragorn sighed and put a hand to his head. Suddenly, he heard footsteps on the stone floor approaching the chamber. As he turned, his hand touched something strange on the cell wall. He looked and saw a dark reddish-brown stain. Blood; dried blood. He realized with horror that the stains coated the floor and walls of the well. More were in the main part of the chamber. Aragorn felt a sickening feeling rise from the pit of his stomach. He could do nothing but wait as the echoing footsteps drew nearer. 

  
  
Legolas woke up groggily. It was dark. He blinked his eyes a few times to make sure it was not an after effect of being knocked out. He finally realized he was in a room made of only stone. He smelled blood and felt his stomach twist into a knot. He heard a scraping sound and turned around. A sliver of light came into the room and he heard low, rough voices.   
  
Soon the door opened all the way and a large Orc appeared. He had a whip hanging on his belt and he was carrying a large club with spikes on it. Another Orc followed and the two of them walked over to where Legolas was lying on the ground. One of them sneered viciously.   
  
"You're coming with us," he said in a harsh voice. "We're going to reunite you with your friend." Legolas' memory flashed back to the last glimpse he had of Aragorn, lying unconscious on the ground after the ambush.   
  
The Orcs yanked Legolas roughly to his feet. They then bound his hands behind his back with rough cords that dug into his skin and caused a stinging pain at his wrists. Legolas tried to keep any emotion from showing on his face. One of the orcs snapped the whip in the air threateningly. "Get moving, elf scum!"   
  
Legolas started forth slowly. He felt humiliated and helpless, like a beast or a slave being driven on by his masters, unarmed and at their mercy. It disgusted him, that feeling. Legolas suddenly came to the realization that he had been stripped of his weapons and armor.   
  
"Faster!" one of the Orcs urged. Without warning he brought the whip down upon the elf's back with a loud resounding sound. At first, Legolas was unaware of the pain. Then, suddenly, he felt it. It was a stinging, a burning more intense than any he had ever felt before. Then one of the Orcs pushed him from behind and he fell forward to the cold stone floor.   
  
The Orcs cackled. "Elven weaklings," said one. "We've only whipped him once and already he's fallen!"   
  
Legolas felt a surge of anger and hatred run through him when the Orcs called him weak. He was not weak. Trying to ignore the intense throbbing pain that he could still feel on his back, Legolas pushed himself to his feet. The Orcs then started to lead him down a long, stone stairway. The foul stench of blood grew steadily worse as they made their way down to a dimly lit chamber…   
  


  
  
"What do you want of me?"   
  
"You are going to tell us everything we need to know," said the large Orc viciously. "Then you are going to tell us information we down even care about, just to stop the pain!"   
  
Aragorn spat at his feet and hissed, "Never! You will never break me!"   
  
The Orc sneered cruelly and said, "It's not you pain you'll be talking for." Then the Orc turned and growled to the others, "Bring him in!"   
  
Aragorn felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach as his thoughts went to Legolas. His fears were confirmed as more Orcs came in, partly dragging a golden haired elf who was putting a small resistance. When his gaze fell on Aragorn, his eyes widened.   
  
"I see you know each other," taunted the Orc before he turned to Aragorn. "What's your name?!"   
  
Aragorn hesitated and said, "Estel."   
  
"The truth!"   
  
"Estel," Aragorn repeated, more firmly this time. He then watched in fear as the Orc walked over to Legolas and caressed his cheek. "So fair," said the Orc. "We shall have to fic that."   
  
Legolas jerked backwards and spat in his face, disgusted. "_Amin feuya ten'lle, le ulund_," he hissed angrily.   
  
The enraged Orc snapped, "Restrain him!"   
  
They pushed the elf against the wall and the large Orc said, "You will regret you did that, elf!"   
  
Legolas coolly retorted, "I am not so sure I shall."   
  
The Orc's fist connected with Legolas' jaw, snapping his head backwards.   
  
"Legolas!" cried out Aragorn.   
  
_"Im triw, Estel. Ceru u fuio nia anim_."   
  
The already enraged Orc looked even more furious. "Do not speak in that foul tongue!"   
  
"You're one to talk," snapped Legolas.   
  
The Orc punched Legolas in the chest and Aragorn heard a sickening crack. The Orc heard it also, but ignored it as he once again questioned Aragorn. "Now first of all, you are going to tell us who sent you, and why. Then we want to know your true name and what you plan to accomplish by spying on us."   
  
Aragorn looked over at Legolas. Their eyes met and Legolas gently shook his head. They could not betray Gandalf and Elrond. Aragorn looked and saw pain in Legolas' eyes. How could he let the Orcs harm him? There was no way for him to avoid both.   
  
"Speak!"   
  
Aragorn looked up at the Orc with hatred. "I will tell you nothing!"   
  
The Orc sneered. "You think that what you are doing is wise, but we will break you. He turned to the Orcs holding Legolas. "Boys? He's all yours." Then he turned and left the chamber.   
  
Aragorn watched in fear as the two Orcs sneered cruelly. They then turned to Legolas said, "Let's have some fun, elf scum!" They pushed him against the wall. He began to fight back, but a club connected with his chest. He doubled over and the Orcs laughed. They clubbed his back and Legolas fell to the ground. He lay there for a few seconds, trying to catch his breath. He attempted to stand again but the club once again fell on his back. He hit the floor hard on his head and dazedly tried to stand up again. The Orcs laughed and brutally hit him on the back again. He collapsed, breathing hard, obviously in pain.   
  
"What's wrong, _elf?_" sneered one of the Orcs. "Are you too weak to stand back up again?"   
  
Legolas took in a deep breath and attempted to stand again. This time a whip came down upon his back.   
  
"Legolas!" cried Aragorn."   
  
Legolas looked up with pain filled eyes. "_Estel, dina; ceru u fuio nia anim_."   
  
One of the Orcs kicked him in the stomach. "I thought I told you to stop that!" He kicked Legolas again. "Get up!"   
  
Legolas felt that he couldn't get up. It felt as though the club had broken his back. Suddenly, on the Orcs grabbed his hair and yanked him to his feet, and a sickening wave of pain shot through his entire body. His chest hurt where the rib had been cracked. Then the Orcs grinned maliciously and took out their whips.   
  
"Let's see how long it takes him to fall this time." said one of them. He took the cords from Legolas' wrists, and blood flowed freely from where they had cut into his skin.   
  
Aragorn turned away, tears streaming down his face. He heard the crack of a whip and saw when it landed on Legolas, leaving a huge gash across the elf's torso. Legolas bit his lip and closed his eyes to hold back the tears. The Orc raised his whip and brought it down again.   
  
"Changed your mind yet, human?" asked the other, as he lashed the whip across Legolas' back and shoulders. "Had enough?"   
  
Aragorn said nothing, but called out Legolas' name once more. The elf looked over at him, his eyes clouded over by pain more intense than any that he had ever felt before. The orcs continued to whip him, and now the elf's back chest and back were a bloody mess. The skin on his arms hung loosely, exposing bone. The sight sickened Aragorn, and he began to feel wretchedly ill. Then, suddenly, it stopped.   
  
The Orcs stopped whipping and clubbing, and Legolas collapsed. His breathing was harsh and ragged. Aragorn looked to the entrance and saw the Orc that had questioned him.   
  
The Orc entered, smiling when he saw Legolas on the floor. Then he walked over to Aragorn's cell.   
  
"Well?"   
  
Aragorn's voice was uneven, and he could hardly force the words out. "No…I won't tell you…"  
  
"Oh, really? Then I suppose you need some time to think about it." He opened the door to Aragorn's cell, and grabbed Legolas and threw him into the cell. Aragorn immediately rushed to his side. The Orcs said no more, and left for the night.   
  
Aragorn took Legolas' head in his arms. The elf opened his eyes and looked up at him.   
  
"Aragorn…" Legolas coughed, and blood came from his mouth. "I…feel…empty…" Then he went limp and his eyes closed.   
  
"Legolas!" Aragorn cried. "Legolas!"   
  
Legolas stirred and opened his eyes. They were glazed with pain. As they focused on Aragorn, the ranger said, "Are you all right?"   
  
"I'm…fine," Legolas said weakly. "What happened?"   
  
"You fainted," said Aragorn.   
  
"No I…didn't," the elf said stubbornly. "Just…resting my…eyes."   
  
"I'm sure," remarked Aragorn.   
  
Legolas moved slightly and let out a low hiss of pain, "Ai…it…hurts…"   
  
Aragorn looked over Legolas and felt angry tears prick at his eyes. The elf was losing blood rapidly. Aragorn took his cloak. He lifted up the elf as gently as he could, trying to ignore the pain in Legolas' eyes. He knew if he saw, then he might not be able to finish what he was trying to do. He placed his cloak under Legolas so the elf would not have his wounds infected. Legolas coughed again and more blood came from his mouth.   
  
"Oh Valar," breathed Aragorn. What if Legolas had a punctured lung? _He would drown in his own blood!_   
  
"Legolas," said Aragorn. "Are you able to take in deep breaths?"   
  
Legolas tried to take in a deep breath, but ended up in a coughing fit. More blood came with his coughing. Aragorn muttered an oath under his breath. Legolas put his hand up to his mouth in an attempt to stop the coughing. When his coughing mostly subsided he pulled his hand away. It, too, was smeared with blood.   
  
He was taking in short, raspy breaths now and it seemed that each breath gave him more pain. He closed his eyes, trying not to think about the pain. His teeth were clenched and his nails were digging into his palms. It was all he could do to stop tears of pain going to his eyes. Not only could he not breathe, but his back and chest still seemed to be on fire from the whips.   
  
Aragorn tore some of his cloak and got several long strips. Then he winced; what he was about to do would hurt the elf terribly. He took the strips and lightly tied them together. Then he looked to Legolas again and took in a deep breath.   
  
"Legolas, I have to set your rib I'll try to do it quickly, but it's going to hurt."   
  
The elf nodded, and shut his eyes. Aragorn began to wrap the cloth around him, applying pressure where needed. Legolas winced in pain, and sharp gasp escaped his lips. Aragorn then bound it tightly.   
  
Legolas looked up at his friend. "Aragorn…" he said. His eyes were full of sorrow as he stared up into Aragorn's eyes. "I need you…to promise me two things."   
  
"Anything, Legolas."   
  
"Promise me that…no matter what happens to me…you won't tell them anything about Gandalf or Elrond."   
  
Aragorn nodded, blinking back tears.   
  
"Also…I need you to promise me…something very important."   
  
"And what is that?"   
  
"They were once Elves, Aragorn. Elves..." his voice was cut off as he coughed. Another spasm of pain shot through his body, and he took a few breaths before he continued. "…Elves who were tortured…until they became what they are today."   
  
"Legolas…"   
  
"Aragorn," the elf said, a sudden urgency in his voice. "I don't want to become one of them. I cannot…please, mellon-nín...if I start become like them…don't let me live."   
  
"What?!" exclaimed Aragorn. "Legolas, no…"   
  
"Promise me, Aragorn!"   
  
The tears started to flow freely down Aragorn's face now. He managed a nod. Legolas smiled weakly.   
  
"Do not be troubled, Estel…I do not think it will come to that."   
  
"Legolas, I do not think I can bear watching this for another day."   
  
"You cannot tell them…"   
  
"But…Legolas, I care about you! How can I just stand by and watch?"   
  
Legolas shook his head. "You musn't tell them. You promised."   
  
Aragorn nodded. "Rest now, _mellon-nín._ You are hurt and weary, and I do not doubt that we will be forced to endure many more hardships in days to come."   
  
Legolas looked around the dark, foul chamber. "This dark place has never known the light of the sun. I wonder…if I should ever see daylight again." With that the elf fell asleep, and many nightmares haunted him that night.   
  


  
  
Elrohir looked down on the resisting Orcs. For three days already he and his brother had been keeping watch over them, and still they learned nothing. At the moment Elladan was asleep, and Elrohir found the lonely night watch extremely dull.   
  
Suddenly, the Orc who was keeping guard looked sharply to the right. Elrohir heard a rustling coming from the bushes there.   
  
The Orc raised his long knife. "Who's there?"   
  
Another Orc emerged from the bushes. "It's only me, you scum, put the knife away."   
  
The guard sheathed his weapon. "What do you want?" He asked in disgust.   
  
"Only came to tell you to keep a sharp eye out."   
  
"For what?"   
  
"Spies, you witless worm. We caught two back in the Misty Mountains, an elf and a man."   
  
Elrohir's heart stopped, and he heard no more of the conversation. Quickly he turned and roused Elladan.   
  
Elladan looked up at his brother, upset that he had been shaken from his pleasant dreams. "What do you want, Elrohir? It is not my turn yet, you know that!"   
  
"Elladan," Elrohir said in a panicked voice. "A messenger just came from the Misty Mountains. He told the guard that they have two captives."   
  
Elladan rose quickly to his feet. "Not Estel and Legolas!"   
  
His brother nodded grimly. "An elf and a man, he said. Come! We must call the horses and return to Rivendell with all speed. We must tell Ada and Mithrandir!" Without further delay, the brothers summoned their horses and started to ride, swiftly and silently, back to their home to bring this ill news to their father.   
  


  
  
Legolas wove in and out of haunted dreams. Aragorn stayed awake most of the night, watching helplessly as the elf tossed and turned in his sleep. Aragorn could not sleep; too many thoughts were going through his mind. _What would happen to them? Were they doomed to perish in the darkness?_ Aragorn lay down on the uncomfortable stone floor, looking up at the ceiling. He didn't want to think anymore. He didn't want to feel this constant uncertainty that was tearing at his heart and mind.   
  
Aragorn looked over at the beaten, tortured elf once more. How could he make this decision? Everything had gone wrong, and it was his fault. Why did he not heed Legolas' warning? In the moment, he had not been aware of anything but the Orcs charging towards him. And now, because of his mistakes, the elf would suffer.   
  
The sound of footsteps came down the corridor again, and Aragorn went over to Legolas and shook him gently. The elf looked up at him, and both waited as the footsteps drew ever nearer.   
  


  
  
The sun rose over the lands right as Imladris came into view. Elladan breathed a sign of relief. He urged his already exhausted horse to go faster and his twin did the same. It wasn't much farther; the stallions could rest once they arrived. They had ridden hard and fast the entire night.   
  
In a little less than an hour, they had arrived at the large gates of the Last Homely house. A surprised voice called out, "Elladan? Elrohir? Were you not out scouting for your father and Mithrandir? You have not been gone yet for even a fortnight…"   
  
Elladan rode forward and said, "We must hurry, Taurdil. Open the gate!"   
  
"Yes, yes, of course." He turned and cried, "_Edro Annon!_" The gates opened and they quickly rode in. They left their horses with the stable master after a few quick words of praise. Then they rushed to where they figured their father would be.   
  
They arrived within a few minutes. The door was shut. Elrohir knocked lightly and waited for an answer.   
  


  
  
The footsteps drew ever nearer and Legolas tensed. Aragorn noticed and said, "Do not lose hope, Legolas. There is always hope. There is always a light to vanquish the darkness."   
  
"Aye, Estel," responded Legolas, "But out there…the sun rises everyday and shines her beautiful light on me…and I know I can keep going…and everything is going to be okay. That although so much evil has happened…that we'll survive and all that was good shall be good once again. That the sun will rise. But here? Here there is no sun…no light…no hope."   
  
As he was saying this, he was once again lit up with the elven luminescence. But as he finished, he was once again dimmed, as a feeling of dread and hopelessness overcame him.   
  
The same three Orcs from the day before entered the chamber once again. The leader walked forward to the cell, while the other two stayed back, fingering their weapons.   
  
"So," said the head Orc," have you changed your mind yet?"   
  
"No." said Aragorn quickly, trying not to think about the decision he was making. He kept his gaze away from Legolas, keeping his face emotionless.   
  
"You are a tiring fool," the Orc said. "You know that sooner or later we will find the truth." Then, motioning to the other two as he said, "Ognak! Ugdush!" he walked forward and unlocked the cell. Aragorn quickly rose to his feet.   
  
Legolas mustered what strength he could and stood against the wall. The two Orcs approached them, grins spread across their hideous faces. Legolas did not back away, bit his expression clearly showed that he was disgusted. He kept all emotion from his eyes. He refused to show any weakness or fear. That was an unworthy act of a warrior.   
  
The Orcs reached him and Legolas tensed, waiting for the pain of the whip. However, it did not come. Instead, they grabbed him, their jagged nails cutting into his already raw skin. He winced in pain and attempted to pull away. A small scuffle broke out and in a few seconds Legolas was once again subdued. He now had long, bloody scratches on his arm.   
  
They dragged him out of the cell and locked the door once again. Then they roughly pushed him forward. They pushed him towards the wall. There were shackles high up on the wall and they shoved his hands in. Then the large Orc turned back to Aragorn.   
  
"For every time you do not answer my question, the elf receives ten lashes, each time, adding ten more."   
  
Aragorn winced as the Orc began interrogating him. "What is your name? Why are you here?!"   
  
"My name is Estel," answered Aragorn, only slightly hesitating. "Our purpose is our own."   
  
The Orc turned back to Legolas and said, "Let him have it, boys. Make him count them!"   
  
The whip cracked and fell across Legolas' back, leaving a burning fire in its wake. When Legolas made no attempt at counting, he snapped, "Add five more! Count 'em, elf, or you'll be getting ten more next time! And we'll start new every time you don't!"   
  
The whip came down again and Legolas quietly said in a whisper barely to be heard, "One."   
  
"I can't hear you, elf! Start over so I can hear you!"   
  
The whip came down again. Legolas closed his eyes and clenched his teeth. Finally he managed to say the word "One." Crack! "Two." Crack! "Three…" After what seemed like an age the whip came across his back for the fifteenth time. His skin almost seemed to hang in shreds. He hadn't known this kind of pain was possible. The Orc turned back to Aragorn with a cruel sneer upon his fetid face.   
  
"Now then," he said. "Tell us the truth!"   
  
Aragorn tried hard to keep his voice steady. "I have given you my answer."   
  
The Orc smiled maliciously. "Very well, then." He turned back to Legolas. "So that I can hear you, elf!" The other two brought their whips down mercilessly on Legolas' back. The elf gritted his teeth and shut his eyes. He took a deep breath. "One." He kept counting, each time using more effort, barely getting the words out.   
  
Aragorn watched, wishing every moment that there was something he could do to stop it. He couldn't bear to look into Legolas' eyes.   
  
Finally, Legolas counted the twenty-fifth lash. The Orc looked to Aragorn, and it was plain to see that he was exasperated. He strode over to the cell, while the other two stayed with Legolas, occasionally whispering to one another.   
  
Aragorn watched as the Orc unlocked his cell. He walked in, and the two stood face to face.   
  
"I have lost patience with you, human. I want to know the truth, now!" the Orc said.   
  
"I have told you as much of the truth as I can tell you." Aragorn answered. "You will get no more from me."   
  
The Orc was furious. He drew back his fist and punched Aragorn in the stomach.   
  
Aragorn doubled over from the unexpected blow. Before he knew it, the Orc clubbed his legs and he fell to his knees. Aragorn felt pain rush through his legs, and for a moment he considered that they might be broken.   
  
At that moment, Legolas cried out and lunged forward, restrained only by the chains, given unexpected strength from the rage and hatred that drove him.   
  
_"Daro! Kela, nador huanrim!"_   
  
The lead Orc turned to him, fury showing in his eyes as evident as a blazing fire.   
  
"Restrain him!" he yelled. Legolas felt the rough hands of the other two Orcs pushing him savagely against the wall. The Orc left Aragorn's cell, slamming and locking the door behind him. Aragorn struggled to his feet and clutched the bars.   
  
The Orc undid the clasps that bound Legolas' hand, and the elf collapsed to the ground. He looked up as the Orcs began to speak to one another in their harsh tongue. One of them left, and the leader grabbed Legolas' jaw. Legolas winced as the Orc's tough, jagged nails bit into the skin on his face. Then, the other returned. In his hand was an iron rod, heated so that the end sparked and glowed an eerie red. There seemed to be some sort of brand at the end.   
  
"Well, elf," said the leader. "I guess there's only one way we're going to silence you." He motioned to the Orc holding the brand and tightened his grip on Legolas' jaw. "Open your mouth."   
  
The elf tried to pull away weakly. The Orc's grip tightened even more. "Open it, or we do the same to your friend!" Legolas hesitated for a moment, then slowly opened his mouth, the Orc's grip easing slightly only to permit him to do so.   
  
"Legolas!" cried Aragorn. The Orc holding Legolas turned to him.   
  
"Quiet, you!" The Orc said. Then he once again focused his attention on Legolas. "Get your tongue out, elf scum! Don't delay us!"   
  
Legolas did so, all resistance gone from him. The other Orc pressed the brand on his tongue, and Aragorn heard a hiss as it made contact.   
  
For a moment, Legolas felt nothing. Then, as the brand was taken from him and the Orc holding him let go, a searing pain rushed through him, and he let out a long, agonized scream.   
  
And Aragorn beheld upon his tongue the imprint of the eye of Sauron, a scar of evil silencing him from his beloved native language, one of the only aspects of his beautiful world that had still remained with him.   
  


  
  
_Elvish translations:   
  
**Im triw, Estel. Ceru u fuio nia anim **: I'm fine, Estel. Do not worry about me.  
**Amin feuya ten'lle, le ulund **: You disgust me, you hideous monster  
**Estel, dina; ceru u fuio nia anim **: Estel, be silent; do not worry about me.  
**Mellon-nín**: My friend  
**Daro! Kela, nador huanrim **: Stop! Get away, cowardly dogs!   
  
We love you! Thank you for all the nice reviews! You're our bestest friends in the entire nooniverse. Erm, yeah. Anywho, we would reply to your reviews, but my internet isn't working, so Sara is going to have to save this to a floppy and (hopefully) post it by Saturday. (If not, don't blame me, eh, precious?)   
  
Ok, Sara gets to talk now. If I don't have it up by Saturday…well, shoot me. No…actually don't…I'm very sensitive. And ignore the fact that Kelly is being evil right now and hogging up all the talking space at the end. She likes to ramble.   
  
No! (Kelly here) I want to listen to angsty music and she wants to listen to happy. I feel like bursting out in song, but I think I sound bad. Anywho, yeah. And NO, I do NOT ramble! Do I, Precious? No, we doesn't. Dang it. Boromir you great prat, STOP rambling!!! (Simba says hi, so does Jimbo)   
  
See what I mean? Jabber, jabber, jabber. And she has a gorgeous voice by the way…so…hey Kelly, they're probably tired of our wonderful conversations. We'll go beat each other up now.   
  
Ok, bye everyone! together We won't grow up! Just to learn to be a parrot! jabber, jabber; pokes Sara.   
  
Signing off!   
  
Steel Sword and Silver Bow_


	3. Chapter 3: A Father's Love

Chapter 3! This chapter is officially dedicated to Viggomaniac! Thanks to her, we have this chapter up! For some reason it disappeared, and as you would realize, it takes a while to type, so THANK YOU, Viggomaniac! 

_**Chapter 3: A Father's Love **(awwww... squeak ) _

Elladan and Elrohir rushed quickly up to their father's quarters. They found the door locked and Elrond was not there.

"He is not here." Elrohir stated, staring at the door as though hoping their father might suddenly appear and open it. He started running back down the corridor near Elrond's quarters. "Come on!" he yelled to Elladan over his shoulder.

"I'm going to look the other way!" Elladan answered. He went down the stairs again. When Elrohir had gone down in to the courtyard, he heard a voice call his name. He turned to see his sister Arwen, a concerned look upon her fair face.

"Elrohir," said Arwen. "Why have you returned so soon? Has something gone wrong?"

"Something has gone terribly wrong, Arwen!" answered Elrohir. "I have to speak with Ada. Where is he?"

"He is having another conference with Mithrandir, in his study."

"_Hannen-le_," Elrohir said, breathing a sigh of relief. He started on his way, then paused and turned to his sister. "Arwen, Elladan is upstairs somewhere. Would you find him, please, and tell him where Ada and I are?"

Arwen nodded, and wasted no time in going to do so. Elrohir ran quickly to the office and pounded on the door. "Ada! Mithrandir! Open the door, please!"

Elrond went to the door and opened it quickly, surprised and concerned to see his son.

"Elrohir! What has happened?" At that moment, Elladan come up behind his brother. Elrond looked to the two of them, then motioned for them to come inside.

Gandalf sat in a chair beside a table with many maps upon it. He, too, looked surprised at the sudden entrance of Elladan and Elrohir.

Elrond ushered them inside and said, "_Havo dad." _When they had seated themselves beside their father and Gandalf, Elrond spoke. "Now. Tell me, my sons, what has caused this early return?"

"'Tis about Estel and Legolas, Ada," said Elrohir. He looked to Gandalf briefly before continuing, bluntly, "They have been found and captured by the enemy."

The effect was instantaneous. Elrond gripped the arms of his chair tightly and said, "Are you sure? How did you come by this information?"

"The night before last we had been watching a group of orcs when two more came. They told the others that an elf and a man had been captu4red. We could not challenge them to a battle. They were too many. At least forty strong. Apparently they were captured not two days ago. What are the chances of a man traveling with an elf? It had to have been Estel and Legolas! Not only that, but they were captured around the Misty Mountains."

Having said all this, Elrohir slumped down in his chair, weary from the exhausting ride. His brother clasped his shoulder encouragingly. Elrohir threw him a grateful look.

Elladan watched his father's reaction. In fact, had the situation not been so serious, he might have been amused at the look he gave Gandalf. It was partly accusing, part I-told-you-so, and partly anxious. He wasted no time in taking action however. He turned first to Elladan and Elrohir. "Get some sleep!" he said, his anxiousness making his voice more curt than it would have been in normal circumstances.

"But--" Elrohir began to protest, but he was cut off.

"Don't' argue with me, Elrohir. You are no use to us half asleep!" he turned to Elladan before he could say anything. "And that goes for you too! I will not leave without you! I will assemble warriors to leave and when we are prepared, you will know. Now, go!"

The two stood up simultaneously. Their faces clearly showed they wanted to argue, but left quietly.

As soon as they were gone, Elrond turned to Gandalf, who still had not said a word.

"What should we do, Mithrandir?"

Gandalf shook his head. "I have sent them to their death."

Elrond did not know what to say. "I...I suppose I must send word to Thranduil."

"Yes, I suppose you must."

Without another word, Elrond left. Upon leaving he saw Elladan explaining the situation to Arwen. He looked in pain as a silent tear fell down her lovely face. She loved him...

Elrond tore his gaze away and went to send word to Thranduil.

* * *

Legolas fell to the ground. One of the Orcs muttered something about it being "enough for today," and the three left, leaving Legolas lying in the middle of the chamber. 

As soon as the door shut, Aragorn whispered Legolas' name. The elf could not answer, and his breath came in short, sudden gasps. Aragorn felt a wave of hopelessness overcome him.

Legolas coughed and emitted a sharp groan. Aragorn stayed silent. He was tired of this place, and hated it. He hated the dim, flickering torches, the foul smell that he would never get used to, the Orcs' voices ringing in his ear...the sight of his friend, tortured and beaten...how long would they be forced to endure this?

Legolas managed to prop himself up against the wall. His eyes met Aragorn's.

"Legolas," Aragorn said, "we will find a way out." Legolas merely looked away, and clutched the chains on the wall to steady himself. Aragorn felt another terrible pang of guilt. The elf was holding on with the characteristic bravery and strength of his people, but Aragorn knew that he went on without hope. Legolas felt that there were only two possible fates that he could come to now—death...or something worse.

Everything was quiet. All Aragorn could hear was Legolas' troubled breathing and quiet crackle of the torches. He laid his head against the wall and shut his eyes, hoping sleep would take him.

Eventually, Aragorn did get to sleep, though it was little better than being awake, for his dreams were dark and troubled. After a troubled sleep for not even an hour he awoke again to see Legolas staring blankly at him with pain glazed eyes. Aragorn called out his name again, but the elf just closed his eyes and looked away. His breathing was even more uneven and he was taking short gasps.

He felt guilt lie heavy on his heart. Both of them were weakening, and it was only a matter of time before one of them gave in. Aragorn only wondered who it would be. What was worse: torture of the body, or torture of the heart and mind?

Aragorn shivered. The chamber was very cold; he was wearing only his light tunic. He looked over at Legolas, whose tunic had been torn to shreds from the whippings. Aragorn knew that Elves did not feel extremities, but the cold air would bite into the open wounds and cause Legolas even more pain. But there was nothing that Aragorn could do now. The Orcs had left Legolas in the middle of the chamber, where he was alone and could not be reached.

Legolas shut his eyes, wishing Mandos would take him. For the first time ever, he felt completely helpless. He hated the feeling. He hated the feeling of hopeless weakness and the inability to do anything about it. What he disliked the most was that Estel was watching his weakness. He felt angry at himself. It was his fault they were here! It should have been obvious how many Orcs there were, and yet he did not realize...

He felt a shudder run through his body. He hadn't known such pain was possible. After the initial shock of the brand, pain didn't seem real. His first reaction was his scream. He couldn't help it. The scream was torn from his throat. He realized afterwards what was imprinted upon his tongue. The eye of Sauron. The brand was still lying in the corner.

Legolas tried to think of something else. He tried to remember Mirkwood, his home. Dim memories came to him of starry nights spent gazing into the heavens, of practicing archery during the day with Gildur... memories of happier times. But soon these memories began to fade, replaced with the horror of the past few days. Had it really only been a few days? For him those days had been a long, endless nightmare—time did not seem to pass. All that Legolas was aware of was the unbearable pain...

He looked to Estel. The man had his eyes closed and he was tossing and turning in his sleep. Legolas knew he had found a friend in him, strange as that may have seemed. He knew his father would not be happy. Legolas knew, also, that he would give his life for this man; which would surprise many people that knew him, for his brother had been murdered by wicked men.

Though he died more than a century ago, grief still lay heavy on his heart. They had been so close. Gildur was the one who first taught Legolas how to use a bow. When Legolas had learned of his brother's death, he locked himself in his room and had nearly died of grief. He only thing that kept him alive was his father. After Gildur's death, Legolas had become close with his father. His last family. However, lately, expectations and demands had become high for the prince.

Suddenly pain shot through his body and he was torn from his thoughts. Every muscle in his body ached; the feeling made even the slightest movement strenuous. Legolas groaned. He would give anything to just end it—all of the suffering, all of the pain. Anything to just let everything go...

Legolas felt a single tear fall down his face. All of these days his emotions had been intense, and many times he had wanted to cry but had forced the tears back with stubborn pride. But now he began to weep bitterly, harder than ever before. Tears streamed down his bloody face openly. He mourned for the world that he had left behind, for this father, whom he would never see again, for Estel, for his brother... and for all of Middle-earth, which would see Sauron's wrath at it's very worst.

* * *

A white horse galloped into Rivendell. And its rider, Kind Thranduil of Mirkwood, disembarked quickly as he rode up to where Elrond, Mithrandir, Elladan and Elrohir were awaiting him. He wasted no time with formalities; simply asked what concerned him most. 

"What has happened to my son?"

Elrond looked to the wins. Finally Elladan spoke.

"Legolas and his companion were captured by Orcs while scouting in the Misty Mountains," he said. "Elrohir and I were not able to learn any more than that."

A memory flashed in Thranduil's mind, a memory of Gildur lying cold and lifeless... he tried to shake those thoughts away, and turned to Mithrandir. "How could this have happened?"

"We have discovered parties of Orcs around the Misty Mountains and Rhovanion as you know. Thranduil, Sauron's forces are moving. However, what we do not know is why he has chosen these two regions to invade. That is why we sent scouts. Elladan and Elrohir were scouting Rhovanion. Legolas and his companion took to the Misty Mountains. Apparently they have been captured around two days ago..."

"Exactly who was my son's companion?" interrupted Thranduil impatiently.

"My son," said Elrond, not eager to find out Thranduil's reaction to Legolas' traveling with a human.

Thranduil looked pointedly at Elladan and Elrohir.

"Both your sons look fine to me, Elrond. And yet my son is not?"

Elrond stalled. "My...foster son..."

Thranduil raised his brow and repeated Elrond's words, "Foster son?"

Elrond sighed. "My mortal son...His name is Estel."

Thranduil's already alabaster face went dead white. "Your _MORTAL_ son? When did this come to happen?"

"Thranduil, do not blame Estel for Legolas' capture!"

"And why shouldn't I?' asked Thranduil angrily. "I know my son is not foolish enough to get captured by Orcs! I do not want to find another child lying stabbed and lifeless!"

All was deadly silent. Finally, Elrond spoke.

"Nor do I wish to find that the same has happened to my foster son," he said. "He was not foolish either. Whatever has happened, it was not because of foolishness."

Thranduil glared. In his mind, he felt that maybe their capture had been the result of betrayal. He opened his mouth as if to speak, then changed his mind. He turned and again mountain his horse.

"What are you doing?" Elrond asked. He had not planned on leaving so abruptly after Thranduil's arrival.

"I ride to the Misty Mountains to find my son! My _ONLY_ son, all that is left of my family. You may go when you will, but I ride now!" Thranduil snapped. Elrond nodded to his sons and told them to ready the horses.

Elladan and Elrohir immediately left, returning about fifteen minutes later. They were riding their horses, and guiding along two other geldings. They had packs. As soon as they arrived Thranduil turned his stallion around. He spoke no more words. He just wanted to get to his son before he had to bury another child. However, not in his darkest fears could Thranduil have imagined what his son was really going through...

* * *

At some point during the night, Legolas fell asleep. He had not wanted to fall asleep, for fear that nightmares would take him again, but weariness eventually got the better of him, and he surrendered to sleep. 

Aragorn lay on the floor of the cell, staring at the ceiling. It was impossible to distinguish night from day; time just passed, every so slowly. Pretty soon, Aragorn heard the Orcs returning. Legolas woke up, and looked them in the eye as they entered the chamber.

"Ognak!" snapped the lead Orc. One of the other two tossed something into Aragorn's cell, and another at Legolas' feet. Aragorn picked it up, and examined it. They had thrown him a dry crust of bread and a few strips of some unidentifiable dried meat. Legolas looked at the food at his feet in disgust. Ognak smiled at the lead Orc.

"Should Ugluk and I get the drought, Groushnak?"

Groushnak nodded with an evil grin. The other two left, only to return a few minutes later holding two flasks of a dark, foul-smelling liquid. Groushnak looked from Legolas to Aragorn.

"Well?" Groushnak asked. "You're of no use to us dead. You'd better eat it, because that's the only food you're going to get." When Legolas still did nothing, the Orc kicked him in the chest. "I told you to eat it!"

Legolas was coughing and gasping from the unexpected blow to his chest. He looked at the food in front of him, knowing that there was no way he could bring himself to eat it. Finally, Groushnak lost patience. He grabbed Legolas' jaw and forced his mouth open. He then started to force the food down his throat. Legolas coughed and gagged, trying to pull away. The meat had a revolting taste, but Legolas had no choice but to swallow it. He dared not guess from what creature the meat came. However, the worst had not yet come. Groushnak now grabbed Legolas' jaw again and poured the drought down. Legolas jerked back as the foul liquid stung his burn horribly. Not only that, but it tasted even worse than the meat. Just tasting it was enough to make him sick. But he forced himself to take it, knowing that there was no alternative.

Aragorn found himself yelling at them to stop, but they didn't pay any attention to him. The Orcs laughed and taunted, enjoying watching the elf suffer. Aragorn turned away. He wouldn't be able to take this much longer...soon he would give in...but he was bound by the promise that he had made to Legolas...and he wasn't sure he could hold to it much longer.

Just then Aragorn heard retching sounds. He turned to Legolas, almost against his will. The elf was convulsing. He had already emptied his stomach of the fetid drought and meat. His body was now going through horrible spasms. He body had already expelled the food and drink, and now it was just trying to rid itself of what was no longer there.

Aragorn could only imagine the pain Legolas was going through. Suddenly the elf began throwing up blood. Aragorn closed his eyes and looked away, but he could not block out the horrible sound.

It was not that he had never seen someone convulse or vomit, he was a healer, but this was the first time he was unable to help. He knew that Legolas was strong, but for an elf any Orc-food was utterly revolting.

Legolas finally stopped, and sat there, staring at the floor and breathing hard. The Orcs looked at each other, unsure of what to do. They couldn't let the elf starve, but it was evident that they couldn't feed him their food. Aragorn had been starving but now his appetite was gone. He did, however manage to choke down the break so that he wouldn't be forced to eat the rest.

Groushnak turned and left, completely frustrated. Ognak and Ugluk didn't follow.

"I'm sick of this!" Ognak said. "We should just get this over with."

"That isn't how Groushnak wants it." Ugluk answered. "But doing it this way isn't getting anywhere."

"Well, Groushnak should never have been put in charge of this in the first place." He looked at Legolas, hatred and contempt in his eyes. "We're going to break you, elf. Just you wait," he said, looking from Legolas to Aragorn. Then he and Ugluk turned and left.

Legolas sat in the middle of the chamber, surrounded by a mixture of his own blood and vomit.

Aragorn watched, knowing that nothing he said could help the elf. He wished he could do anything! Instead he was safe in his cell, forced to watch Legolas be tortured. His thoughts turned to his family. Were Elladan and Elrohir safe? He figured they were, since they obviously not drown here...rather he hoped they were...

Would his father ever know what happened to them? Probably not. They would probably perish down...in the darkness...alone. His thoughts then turned to Arwen. The beautiful Evenstar of her people. He could not help that he had fallen in love with her! If he was truly following in Beren's footsteps, then he would be the death of Arwen. The death of an immortal...

Then he realized now he was probably the death of Legolas! Another immortal! He felt guilt lie heavy on his heart. It was all his fault that they were trapped here to be unmercifully tortured. Did Legolas hate him? As his thoughts turned to Legolas he thought about the elf's brother, Gildur. Legolas spoke of his brother and his death, but he had not spoken of how he died.

What he did know was they would probably never get out of here alive.

* * *

The Misty Mountains loomed menacingly in the distance. Thranduil, Gandalf, Elrond, Elladan and Elrohir drove their horses on with fierce determination, resting little and speaking not. The day was drawing to a close, yet as night drew ever nearer and the sun set low in the west, Thranduil showed no signs of stopping. They had been riding for about a week, yet the Misty Mountains were still some days away. 

"Mithrandir, said Elrond, "We cannot ride through the night!"

"We may stop and rest," Gandalf answered. "But Thranduil is very determined to reach his son, so I do not think we will be able to persuade him to stop. We should not get separated—evil lurks in these forsaken lands."

"But what if we should lose our way in the dark?"

"Then I suppose we will go by instinct and find the trail in the morning."

"Can you not force him to stop?"

"It is not in my power to come between a father and his only child."

Elrond fell silent, his mind going back to Estel. He knew that Thranduil held Estel responsible for Legolas' capture; the Elvenking was very distrustful of other races, and he saw men as traitorous and disloyal—especially after the tragedy of Gildur's murder. But through Elrond had been against his foster son going as Legolas' companion, he knew that Estel was a noble man, and that he was not foolish. He was very concerned; though he didn't usually show it, he cared for Estel as his own son.

Elrond tried to put those thoughts behind him. He stared intently ahead, hoping for any sign of Legolas or Aragorn having been there. Just when he had resolved to not stopping, Thranduil abruptly stopped his stallion ahead. The Elvenking jumped off and bent over the ground. Elrond urged his horse to Thranduil before he jumped off his horse. "_Man cenich?" _

Thranduil did not answer but instead picked up what looked like a flask. It was dark, so he could not see what its exact shape was. He leaned closer curiously just as Thranduil threw it back to the ground and jumped back on his horse. His silver eyes gleamed. "They passed through here! We must ride on at once!"

Thranduil was about to ride away Elrond said, "Thranduil, we must take a rest, our horses grow ever more weary and we have been riding nonstop. You will not have the energy to ride on tomorrow."

Thranduil's eyes flashed and snapped, "And I shall be of no use whatsoever to my son if he is dead!"

"But what if we should lose our way in the dark?"

Thranduil glared at him. "I have traveled this way before. I will not lose my way. I will ride on, and you will not hinder me." With that, he mounted his tired horse and began to ride again Elladan looked to his father.

"Ada," he said.  
I wish to ride on as well. I fear for Estel."

"I feel the same," said Elrohir. "But I will do whatever you bid."

Elrond looked to Gandalf. The wizard's gaze met his.

"We must make haste, Elrond."

"I know, but I am against--"

"Elrond..."

Elrond said nothing, but commanded his horse forward. Gandalf followed, then the twins. The world darkened, and the moon took its place high in the night sky. The travelers rode on through the perilous night.

Meanwhile, Thranduil kept a steady pace as he rode ahead of the rest of the group. He knew these lands. Nothing could keep him from those mountains. Somewhere in there was his son, imprisoned.

Thranduil's mind went to Gildur. He thought of how his older son had been betrayed and tortured...he could not let the same happen to Legolas. Elrond was a fool to send a man as his companion; he did not understand the treachery of men. He did not understand their hatred and corruption. He trusted men too much. All trust ever gave you was pain.

He looked up at the moon, thankful for its brightness. It was surrounded by stars and Thranduil wondered if Legolas would ever see the stars again. He had seen too many of his loved ones pass into that darkness. Thranduil felt a sudden pang of regret and guilt, remembering some of his last conversations with Legolas. He had demanded too much of his son; he had pushed him too hard and neglected to show him the fatherly love that he needed and deserved.

He just wanted Legolas to be able to take care of himself. He did not want to lose another son, so he pushed him. Legolas was the best archer in Mirkwood, and yet he pushed him harder. He had also bested many elves with knives and sword. He was proud of his son and he knew all the Mirkwood elves loved their prince.

Maybe the reason Legolas had been so eager to leave for this mission was because he had felt a need to prove himself. Was he, Thranduil, a demanding father, to blame for his beloved son's capture? He stopped his horse abruptly to let the thought sink in, and a wave of fear and guilt passed through him. He felt tears welling up in his eyes.

Yet, he refused to let them fall. He angrily blinked them back as a single, crystal, tear escaped his lashes and fell silently down his face. He began to set his horse into motion once again, though it was not long before he once again stopped just up ahead.

Orc corpses littered the ground, and blood tainted the grass. He jumped off his horse and heard horses stopping behind his, but he paid no heed. He saw a glimmer of gold, and he had a sickening feeling that he knew what it was. As he stepped closer, his fears were confirmed. A single golden mellyrn leaf lay there with silver etched into the veins. It was attached to a simple chain, just large enough to place over one's head.

He gently picked it up, as though it might break at any second. Elrond stepped up behind him and asked softly, "What is it?"

Thranduil straightened up and looked up towards the starry sky, for fear that Elrond might see the tears in his eyes that desperately threatened to fall.

"'Twas Gildur's...he...ever since then, Legolas carried it with him always." He turned the pendant over in his hand, wishing that none of this had ever happened. Then, suddenly, he heard something pushing through the trees...

"Yrch!" Elrohir hissed. He readied an arrow. Soon, a small group of them could be seen lurking behind the trees.

"Shoot!" Elrond commanded. He and Thranduil strung arrows while his sons began to fire. Orc-arrows countered the attack from behind the trees, narrowly missing the group of weary travelers. Soon, however, the barrage of arrows stopped. The Orcs lay dead.

Elladan jumped down from his horse and looked around.

"One of them got away!" he cried in dismay.

"Spies from the Misty Mountains." Gandalf exclaimed. "Ride now! We must get there quickly!"

* * *

Legolas avoided Aragorn's gaze. Shame burned inside of him. He had never in his life felt so weak as he did at this moment. 

Abruptly he heard footsteps. The door banged open and Aragorn started. A group of Orcs stomped inside. Legolas felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as he saw Groushnak. He wasn't sure how much more he could take.

"Get up, maggot!" he snapped at Legolas. The other three Orcs opened Aragorn's cell. The human immediately tried to get to Legolas, but a kick in his stomach from an Orc stopped him. They quickly beat him to the ground and cuffed his hands tightly. Aragorn struggled underneath their weight, wanting to get to his friend.

They dragged him up and pushed him roughly out of the cell. Legolas was sprawled across the floor and the Orcs were taunting him and jeering. Groushnak was nowhere in sight. One kicked him and Aragorn began struggling violently against his bonds. Legolas lifted up his head and looked directly into Aragorn's eyes for the first time in days.

Aragorn noticed with horror that the elf's eyes showed no pain, no emotion...no life.

"Legolas," he whispered, knowing the elf could hear him, but he did not finish his sentence. Legolas looked away.

Aragorn was once again pushed forward, and the Orcs began leading him through narrow stone corridors that led out of the mountains. He looked over his shoulder to see Legolas struggling weakly to his feet. Finally, the elf managed to stand shakily, only to be mercilessly herded forward by his captors. Aragorn tore his gaze away.

Aragorn realized that huge groups of Orcs were rushing in the same direction. Suddenly, they turned a corner, he saw pale beams of moonlight piercing the darkness, and felt a soft breeze. Soon he could see the way out.

There was, however, little time to enjoy the feeling of being outdoors again. As Aragorn was taken outside, his legs were shackled and he was pushed roughly to the ground. Soon Legolas was dragged out and thrown down beside him. The Orcs who had been guarding them went up ahead for a moment to speak to Groushnak, who had been outside.

"Estel."

Aragorn turned immediately. The elf's voice was hardly more than a pained whisper, but it was some comfort to hear him speak again. He began to say something, but Groushnak yelled out orders to leave. They dragged Legolas roughly up, and he swayed on his feet. His eyes had a slightly glazed look.

Aragorn stood up and began to follow to Orcs. He didn't know where they were taking them, but he wasn't sure they would survive the journey.

And even is they did survive, there would be no telling if the future that awaited them would be any more welcoming than the cold touch of death...


	4. Chapter 4: Fatal Redemption

_**Sielge:** Dead is right. Breaked is right too. But...which is it truly? Only the psychic monkey knows. _

_**Irish Anor: **O. K. 'Tis about Estel and Legolas, ADA!_

_**Silver Moon-Celeb Ithil: **Unfortunately, the human being who has the misfortune of being naturally lazy cannot be changed. However, we tried to update asap. ELIJAH WOOD EYES!!! Hee hee just kidding thanx for reviewing._

_**Legolas4me: **Yes, Thranduil is a very nice daddy. Thank you for making us feel special we like descriptiveness, or as we like to say, "fluff". _

_**Bluemoon: **bleh I know your real name haha_

_**EverKitsune: **Our penname is very dear to our heart sniffle (ahem bronze axe and golden staff hee hee those are Gimli and Gandalf in case you are wondering) We updated!!! Yay!!! It took forever, and one incident in which we lost the story...shiver Thank you for reviewing! Please review again (we love reviews!)_

_**RafflesianTuriel: **Oh. That's so nice. We are the 2 best story friend thingies ever. That makes us feel special, thank you! _

_A/N: Please R/R we like reviews, even if they are complaints (do I smell a cliffie?) or death threats. Beware for we have a dinner plate. We honestly apologize if we scared any reviewers away with our ahem UNIQUE replies. _

_Disclaimer: We own everything in the universe as we are the kings except for LOTR cuz that is in a universe of its own. HOO HA! O. K. (It's ok one word, Elijah Wood, you great prat!)_

_­_

_Let me fall_

_If I fall _

_Although the phoenix_

_May or may not rise_

_I will dance so freely_

_Holding onto no one_

_You can hold me only if you too will fall _

_Away from all these useless fears and chains_

_Someone I am is waiting for my courage_

_The one I want_

_The one I will become_

_Will carry me_

_So let me fall_

_If I must fall_

_I won't heed your warnings_

_I won't hear_

_Let me fall_

_If I fall_

_There's no reason _

_To miss this one chance_

_This perfect moment_

_Just let me fall_

_-Josh Groban_

_**Chapter 4: Fatal redemption**_

Elrond looked towards the mountains looming ahead of them. The sky was just beginning to lighten as the sun rose over the Misty Mountains, casting light in various places and shadows in others. As they neared the mountains they were placed into the shadow of the great landform. From the front of their group, Thranduil jumped from his gelding and kneeled in the rocky soil. He then stood back up and cried, "Orc tracks! They are numerous!"

The rest of the Elves rode forward and also jumped off their horses, but the Istar lingered back. Elladan studied the tracks before agreeing. "These are indeed the Orcs we are tracking. This must be where Estel and Legolas are being held captive!"

The Elves continued on, stepped carefully and leading their horses behind them for the terrain was much too jagged to ride. The company failed to notice that they were one less in number, for the wizard had disappeared. After the morning had come and gone, they came to an entrance.

A long dark tunnel led into the mountain, and the tracks led into the sinister path. Thranduil peered into it for a moment. Then, after giving Elrond a hard stare as though daring him to say they would not tread the road, strode into the darkness, disappeared in the tunnel.

The place was filled with a foul stench and an eerie silence. As they journeyed further in, however, they found no sign of any Orcs—or of Aragorn and Legolas. Thranduil soon found a narrow passage lit dimly by flickering, dying torches that apparently led down to a darkened chamber. He motioned to Elrond and the twins, and together they began to descend. The air was stuffy, the overwhelming odor making it difficult to breathe.

They pushed open the large door and entered the chamber. It was a dungeon, surrounded by prison cells. Thranduil walked forward, hoping to find some sign that his son had been held there.

Suddenly, Elrohir spotted a glint of metal against the stone floor. He pushed the door open and rushed in, then knelt down and picked it up. He looked at it and stood slowly, no emotion in his face.

"Elrohir," said Elrond. "What is it?"

"Ada," he answered. "This is Estel's."

Elrond and Elladan entered, and Elrohir dropped the item into his father's hand.

"The Ring of Barahir," Elrond said softly. "Aragorn's ring."

Thranduil looked up. "_Aragorn_?" he said slowly, his voice showing none of the emotions he was feeling. "The Heir of Isildur?"

Elrond nodded, his eyes bright against the darkness, Thranduil gave no physical response and said nothing, but instead scrutinized the dark room. He saw that the floor seemed to be coated with a dark substance. As he examined it closer he was hit with the sickening realization that it was blood. It was still fresh, he noted, as he touched it and lifted a finger smeared with Elven blood. Tattered pieces of garments also lay on the ground, drenched in the crimson fluid. The nauseating smell of blood overwhelmed his senses.

"We know now, at least that they were here," Elrond said. "What I do not know is where they have been taken now."

"They just recently left. I can still smell the Orcs, though they aren't here anymore..." Elrohir looked at the blood on the ground. "And this blood was recently spilled."

Thranduil stood abruptly, anger ablaze in his heart. "They've taken them somewhere."

"But where can we go? We have not the slightest idea as to where they are!" said Elladan.

"Do you think they are taking them... to Mordor?" Elrohir asked.

"Perhaps to Rhovanion," his brother answered. "It is closer, and they have their stronghold there."

"I will go to Rhovanion." Thranduil said. "If I do not find Legolas there... then I will venture to Mordor."

Elrond looked at him sharply. "Thranduil, if Legolas and Aragorn have been taken to Mordor, then you know the fate that has befallen them. There will be nothing we can do."

The Elvenking said nothing, but gave Elrond a look of anger and sorrow. Then he turned and slowly left the chamber.

* * *

Legolas stumbled again. Aragorn wished to help his friend, but he was not allowed near the elf. Finally, after a long day of pain, they reached a river and Groushnak yelled orders to get a fire going. They threw the exhausted prisoners to the ground, and for a moment, the two were left unguarded. Aragorn edged over to Legolas, unnoticed by the Orcs.

"Legolas," he said quietly. "I think there may be a way to escape!"

Legolas gave no motion to say he had even heard the man, but Aragorn continued.

"If we can find a way to distract them, we may be able to leave before they realize!"

The elf did not answer.

Just then, an Orc realized the two prisoners were conversing. He and two other Orcs came over and pulled Aragorn away.

Aragorn was pushed to the ground again by a tree. He sat up against it, and looked over at Legolas. The elf was lying motionless on the ground. Aragorn looked away, unable to see his friend in such a horrible state.

The Orcs were gathering beside the fire now, arguing loudly about something. Aragorn ignored them, instead, concentrating on escape route. They were surrounded by trees, but Aragorn highly doubted Legolas could climb one in his condition. So caught up in his thoughts, was he, that he did not notice the Orcs had stopped arguing. He was still searching his environment when he noticed the large Orc behind him.

"Planning something, this one is!" growled the Orc.

"He's a sneaky one all right," agreed the other Orc. "I knew he was a bad one the moment I saw him!"

Aragorn stared determinedly ahead of him, refusing to be provoked into giving anything away. The Orcs soon grew bored of him as they skulked over to the elf. Legolas' eyes were closed, but they fluttered open as the Orcs began to taunt him. He was too weary to react, and when the two realized that, they began to abuse him, as they kicked and hit him around.

Aragorn found himself unable to watch any longer. "Stop!" he said. Hadn't they caused the elf enough pain already? Why must they persist in constantly tormenting him?

The Orcs laughed out loud. "You want us to stop, do you?" one said haughtily. "Tell us what we need to know and you can end this anytime."

"I'll just promise you this," Aragorn said, his voice quiet and full of suppressed anger. "When this is over, I will kill you all. And I will do it slowly. I will make sure that your suffer dearly for every wound you inflicted upon him."

This, of course, sent the Orcs into another fit of laughter. They continued to abuse and taunt Legolas until they were called away by their superiors.

The night's progression was agonizingly slow. Every minute dragged on, and it seemed that sawn would never come. But in Aragorn and Legolas' world, day and night no longer mattered. It was impossible to recall how many days had passed since they first entered Groushnak's cursed torture chamber. Life itself was curse, for Legolas would have welcomed death with open arms. To die would mean freedom from this terrible bondage. It would be a just reward for all the hardships he had been forced to endure. But all reasoning, after such terrible torture, he _should_ be dead by now. So why did he keep going without any hope?

Hour later, Legolas half-felt himself being dragged to his feet. Aragorn's voice calling his name was distant and unclear. He was aware of only one thing: they were moving again. Moving towards their unknown destination and his certain death. For Legolas had made his decision: once they reached the place, he would call upon Aragorn to fulfill his promise, and his suffering would end.

* * *

Thranduil nudged his horse to go faster. He did not know where his youngest son was, but he knew what fate awaited him if he stayed there much longer. A leaf fluttered down before him, as though to prove his point. How much longer could he take this unbearable ache in his heart? What pained him most was not so much that his son was being tortured, but that he was powerless to stop it. Powerless to end the suffering of his son... of his life.

The moon shone brightly against the dark velvety blanket of darkness, which covered the sky. Bright stars also dotted the heavens. It was the ideal night for traveling, for the moon and stars illuminated the night and lit their path. There were no sounds in the still night, save for the hoof beats of the horses and the occasional rustling of dead leaves.

They rode with great haste and speed for Rhovanion, forsaking any stealth they might have begun with. The Carrock River drew nearer as the night wore on. There they would stop and allow their horses to rest. From there, they would scout for any signs of Orcs being near. With any luck, they would find Aragorn and Legolas... hopefully alive. Thranduil could now only pray that they _would_ be alive. Legolas was his only son, and the only _family_ he had left; he did not want to lose him as well. If Legolas died, Thranduil was not so sure that he would have the will to live either.

He suddenly became aware of hoof beats behind him. He turns and saw Elrond riding about a foot behind his own steed. The Noldor Elf was stared ahead intently, with a look of determined concentration, making it appear as though he had seen something. Then, he abruptly shook his head and realized Thranduil was staring at him.

He paused for a moment, noting the grief in Thranduil's eyes. He noticed how his hands would every so often make their way to the necklace he had found. How, though Elves did not normally feel fatigue, his eyes had dark circles beneath them. Then, realizing that he was now staring, he jerked his away.

"They are alive, Thranduil," he said suddenly and softly into the silence. "We would know if they were not."

"Perhaps, Elrond," replied the Sindar. "Yet I know something terrible has befallen my son."

Though it was dark, Elrond saw the tears glimmering Thranduil's eyes, though he was too proud to let them fall.

Abruptly, Thranduil spoke, though his voice was barely audible. "He is my last and youngest son, Elrond. He took after his mother; kind, gentle and yet fierce. He has never done anything to deserve this. The last thing I ever said to him was to leave. We had a quarrel, which was not rare between us. Ever since Gildur was murdered, I pushed Legolas to be the best in everything. And yet, he was never good enough in my eyes. You must understand, Elrond. I have not forgiven men, either. They have taken everything I have loved. What they did not do themselves, they turned over to Orcs. There are so many things I wish I could do over..."

Elrond looks at Thranduil empathetically. At least he still had all of his children and his wife was waiting for him across the sea. The silence grew awkward for a moment before Elladan suddenly galloped beside them, Elrohir just behind him.

"Adar!" he began, before Elrohir arrived beside him, finishing his sentence.

"_Mithrandir has gone!"_

* * *

Legolas stumbled again, his was blurred with pain, and every few steps that he took, he fell. The Orcs would then punish him with either the whips, or by kicking him. He wanted nothing more than to lay down, but he forced himself to keep going merely by the thought that tonight, it would all be over.

Aragorn was walking nearby, his hands bound, staring ahead with a loathsome look in his eyes. The Orcs never laid a hand on him, yet they bothered him with taunts and jeers which he ignored. Legolas was determined not to look the man in the eyes. While he was enduring intense physical torment, he knew the mental strain Aragorn must be under, to have held out this long. And what he would have to do tonight would just make it worse.

Another Orc kicked Legolas' legs, and in a moment of anger he had the absurd urge to kick him back. And he would have if he had the strength. Instead he forced himself to keep walking. He could not put Aragorn under any more pain than was necessary. He had enough sorrow weighing him down already, and Legolas' last request tonight would help him not... Yet what was Legolas to do? He felt ashamed that he was taking the "cowards" way out, but if he were to go on as he was... He knew if the Orcs tortured him any longer, they would soon grow tired of their "games" and might come up with worse, more twisted ideas. Legolas was sure death was better than whatever sick idea the Orcs might come up with.

He heard Aragorn softly speak his name again, and Legolas almost turned. Yet surely Aragorn would understand if he knew just how much agony he was truly feeling... and not all of the body. He felt shame burn him. Surely Aragorn was feeling even more pain than him. Had it been his fault that they were now being tortured? Maybe if he had been truly listening, he would have realized that the two of them could not take them all. Maybe if he had nit hidden in the tree like a coward, shooting arrows as an assassin, they would have been the ones interrogating. Not the ones being interrogated.

He could not go on like this; that he knew. Once he was dead, Aragorn would not be hindered by him and could escape. It was the best thing Aragorn could do, even if the ranger did not realize it, he would understand later.

"Groushnak!"

The Orc turned to his comrade, who had called to him from the rear of the group.

"What?"

The Orc's tone was bitter as he responded, "You've been driving us on for days, without rest or food! We won't reach Rhovanion for another few days as we can't be expected to go nonstop."

Several Orcs voiced their agreement, and Groushnak glared at them furiously. "So you would have the elves and the wizard catch our trail?" The rest nodded.

Aragorn looked up, startled. They were being tracked! A small glimmer of hope that he had long though gone slightly lightened the burden on his heart. Gandalf was coming, maybe Elrond... Valar, what would Elrond think? Maybe Thranduil was coming as well...

Legolas, however, felt worse at the though of his father, having to face him with yet another failure. And, if Thranduil did not reach them in time, he would find his on dead at Aragorn's hands... and never lose his hatred for men. After Gildur's death he had done everything he could to kill those men—and succeeded. What if he tried to murder Aragorn?

_More guilt_, Legolas though to himself. _Will it never end? The horror, the bloodshed, the pain... Will it continue even after I am gone? What will this do to my father, to Aragorn?_

Legolas hung his head and found himself staring the mutilated, bloody body that he no longer recognized. He would never know the consequences of his actions. And he told himself that it did not matter anymore; because his own guilt and suffering would forever end the night they reached Rhovanion.

That fateful night would end everything.

* * *

Ognak sat sharpening his dagger by the fire when Groushnak finally obliged their demands for rest. He watched as Ugluk and some others amused themselves by tying a rope around the elf and tethering him to a tree like an animal. Fools. Did they not know that the prisoner too weak to move anyway? Of course, this whole time the human was shouting protest. Ognak longed to cut his tongue out—he would not be able to stand the irritating voice much longer. Finally, when he, too, was secured to a tree, Ognak stuffed a gag in his mouth.

He walked back to the fire and sat to rest. Groushnak was pacing restlessly, angry at the delay. Ognak snorted. He was, by far, the biggest idiot of the lot. Why must they take orders from one with no knowledge of leadership? If Groushnak were unseated, he would be in charge. And he would kill the elf, make the human tell the truth, cut his tongue out, then kill him as well.

Ognak's lips curled into a vicious smile at the mere though of it. Groushnak would hold power no more. He would do it at Rhovanion... he would slay the fool, and enjoy every moment of it! Then everything would fall into place.

Filled with new joy and motivation, Ognak returned to polishing his dagger. Although, he needed a new cloth—he realized that he had used the other as a gag. The human would have a very unpleasant taste in his mouth for a very long time.

* * *

Aragorn was not sure what the Orc had put in his mouth, but it tasted of blood and metal. Maybe he should have kept quiet... but for them to treat Legolas as an animal just infuriated him. The elf lay against the tree, eyes pointed towards the heavens. Perhaps it was a trick of the dim light, but Aragorn thought he saw a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

Legolas was smiling actually. He was thinking of Gildur. He remembered staring at the night sky with his beloved brother, and he found comfort in the fact that he would see him again. He closed his eyes briefly, almost hearing Gildur's voice, and though it at first was peaceful, he soon found he actually heard him speaking, and the funny thing was, the voice was telling Legolas to hold on and not to give up. He almost even fancied he could feel his brothers gentle hands stroking his hair gently as he had so many times when they had been younger and Legolas had had a bad dream. Legolas shook his head and was surprised when he felt tears upon his face. He felt hot pain course through his veins and he closed his eyes tightly so Aragorn would not see his pain...or his tears.

_Hope. _The word echoed in his mind. Could it be that he had truly heard his brother's voice? He shook his head and opened his eyes, but what he saw surprised him. Gildur stood above him, a sorrowful look upon his fair face. Legolas reached forward to touch his hand in order to ensure he was not a phantom. Gildur's hand was real enough. Forgetting his pain, despair, and the cruel orcs, he whispered his brother's name hoarsely. Gildur smiled sadly, his gentle green eyes filled with grief. His golden hair seemed to shine silver in the twilight. A single tear fell softly down his face as he opened his mouth to speak. Yet even as he did so, an orc noticed he was there. He took a step back, and his body began to fade.

"_Baw!"_ cried Legolas. _"Gildur avo heiram! No, don't leave!"_

As Gildur faded completely, his last essence seemed to whisper hope.

A cruel and sharp kick brought Legolas to open his eyes. Ognak stood over him, where his brother had just been.

"Do you still think to contradict us, filth?"

He delivered another hard kick.

"We _will _break you; have no doubt. By the time we are finished with you, you shall wish you were _dead._"

Legolas ignored him, thinking instead about the apparition of his brother. Could it truly have been him? He had felt so real. Legolas tried to remember their last meeting...

_flashback_

The winter air was bitingly cold, even for one of the elven race. The chill wind of winter blew through the dark trees in the distance and left most of the land covered with icy snowflakes. The sun seemed to be a thing of the distant past, for the sky was grey with the season. Two elves and a single horse stood by a wooden bridge over a large frozen river.

The wind was in their flowing golden hair as well as the dark mane of the horse. Their eyes were fierce and piercing; clear green locked with bright silver and their fair skin was white.

"_Nîr tôl erin baded lin. A tear comes on your going." _

"_Im garo heiram. I must go."_

Legolas cast his pain-filled eyes down. "_Saes_," he muttered. "_Baw_. _Ú-chenion. Please, no. I do not understand," _he whispered despondently, though in his heart he knew he did.

"_Im naer, muindor. I am sorry, brother."_

They had already said their farewells; now Legolas supposed to be seeing him off. Instead he found himself attempting to convince Gildur not to leave.

"_Mas thelich baded? Where will you go?"_ he continued stubbornly, though he knew the battle was already lost. Sadness was deep in Gildur's emerald orbs. "_Edhored anim. Forgive me," _whispered Legolas sadly.

The wind was growing stronger. It whistled around them and hurtled snow about them.

"_Gerich vereth nín, muindor-nín,"_ said Legolas over the wind. "_Sílo Anor bo men lín. You have my love, my brother. May the Sun shine upon your road."_

Legolas embraced his brother strongly, feeling sadness well up in him. Identical tears of sorrow cascaded down their faces, freezing before they hit the ground. Gildur leapt atop his steed and turned away, feeling that he would not have the heart to leave if he lingered any longer. He galloped away, and in Legolas heart he felt it to be the last time he would see his brother. His soft words were unheard as they were lost in the howling of the wind.

"_I will miss you, my brother..."_

_end flashback_

As the image of his last meeting with Gildur faded from Legolas' mind, he felt himself being pushed roughly to his feet. Could it already be time to leave? How many hours had he been lost in the reclusion of his thoughts? No matter—they were moving again. Legolas' sore, throbbing legs shook as he got to his feet, but he forced himself to press on as he remembered Gildur. His brother would never have given in to the pain. He would never have surrendered, gone down without a fight.

So given renewed strength, Legolas kept going, eyes staring ahead with fierce determination. He would get to Rhovanion. Although he was still going to carry out his plan, he planned to do so with dignity, and would not be dragged there like a helpless prisoner by these foul creatures.

Looking over at Aragorn, he managed to send his friend a small smile, and it amused him to see the man's bewilderment. But he need it—he would have to be strong.

Aragorn would be the one who would need courage now.

* * *

Elrond was in even worse spirits than before. Where had the bloody Istar disappeared to now? Now, when their need was greater than ever. It seemed that ill fate followed them through everything.

They had reached the Carrock River. Thranduil allowed for a short rest to allow their exhausted horses to regain their strength, then insisted that they continue. The hour was again late, the light scarce. But they went on now with slightly more hope—they believed they had found the Orcs' trail. Of course, they were still far from the swiftly moving group, but at least it provided some information.

Yet Gandalf's disappearance remained a constant enigma. It bothered Elrond to no end. As their tiresome journey dragged on, he grew angry as well—why would their trusted friend abandon them? The wizard was often unpredictable, but this was shocking, especially since he cared deeply about Aragorn and Legolas as well. Something must have happened. Yet after briefly discussing it, they realized that attempting to figure out why the wizard had left was pretty much hopeless.

They were riding again in silence when Elladan rode up beside his father.

"Ada?" he asked.

"Yes?"

Elladan hesitated briefly, then continued. "You have always been completely honest to me."

"Honesty is part of my role as a father."

"So answer me this, truthfully: when we reach the place where Estel and Legolas are being held, what do you think we will find?"

Elrond had feared this question for many leagues since they had left Imladris. He had, in fact, been wondering the same thing is they had first begun their trek. He drew in a deep breath and turned to his sons' apprehensive faces. Their long dark hair had long since escaped the leather ties which were supposed to hold their hair. Their usually calm and gentle brown eyes now held fear—an emotion the two elves rarely felt.

"I... do not know," replied Elrond, too weary to beat around the bush. "Aragorn and Legolas are very strong; there is no doubt upon that. But they have been captured by the orcs for a long time..."

He shook his head, knowing in his hearth he blamed himself.

"_Avo_. _Don't._"

Elrond whipped his head around. So caught up in his guilt, he had failed to hear the Silvan Elf ride up beside him.

"_Man pennich? What did you say?"_

"Do not blame yourself, for I know guilt lurks hidden in your heart; already it is manifesting." His eyes were sharp and piercing. "You must eradicate such thoughts were they take over. Ere they rule your mind.. as they already rule mine."

The Nolder Elves stared at the Elven King. Elrond opened his mouth but Thranduil interrupted.

"No, do not try to comfort me. Do not contradict me, for I know in my heart where the blame truly lies: on myself."

He closed his eyes briefly and Elrond saw a silent tear fall from beneath closed lashes. Then, he opened his eyes and stared ahead, as though picturing his son. "Always he was trying to prove himself. Always he was striving to... to do what?"

Tears filled his eyes as he continued; seeming to have forgotten that he was not alone. A despairing look had filled his azure orbs.

"To please me? He was proven to me that moment he came into this world. He used to know that... until Gildur was murdered."

He turned to Elrond with wide eyes, and then as though Elrond had been condemning him, he spoke urgently. "I pushed him because I loved him... because I _did not want to lose another child!_ And now... I have sent him to his death."

A few prolonged moments of silence followed. Then Elrond turned to Elrohir. "Try to find their trail," he said. His son nodded and dismounted, then quickly began to climb the nearest tree. The other three stood below, watching as he reached the top and shaded his eyes, looking into the distance.

"We are not far!" he reported, calling down. "Rhovanion is near, and the orcs have slowed their pace. With luck, we may be able to reach our destination shortly after they do and get in unexpected.

"Ada," Elladan said quietly. "I have a question."

Elrond prepared himself for another question like the last. "Yes, Elladan?"

"Ada, there are many Orcs. There will be twice as many as before, now that a second party is joining those already at Rhovanion. They will be alert for trespassers, after discovering Estel and Legolas. How do you plan to get in unnoticed?"

Elrond hesitated. Silently, he reprimanded himself for not thinking of it before. "I—"

"We did not travel thus far to abandon those we seek!" said Thranduil coldly. Placing a hand tightly around the hilt of on of his elven daggers, his eyes suddenly alight with a strange fire. "We will go in. Those who stand in your way will not live to alert the rest."

Elladan began to say something, but reconsidered after Elrond gave him a sharp look. The tension would have lasted, except that it was broken by a loud thud signifying Elrohir's ungraceful attempt to get down from the tree. He rose, finding three pairs of eyes staring at him.

"I... my foot got stuck." Elrohir stammer pathetically, pointing at his boot. Elrond shook his head.

"Come," said Thranduil. "We ride."

Ignoring his horse's irritated snort of protest, he began to ride on. Casting one more look at his sons, Elrond followed.

Elladan raised his eyebrows at his brother. "Nice," he commented sarcastically. "Very graceful."

"My foot was honestly stuck!" Elrohir protested.

"Right," Elladan said. The twins looked to one another for a few moments, then rode on as well.

* * *

Rhovanion was now drawing near. The Orcs were picking up their pace now; Groushnak had been angry with the slow progress they had been making after their rest. Legolas' legs were still shaky and weak, but he managed to go on at a decent pace without help. He was determined to ignore the pain he felt when they hit him as well as their taunts and jeers, although it proved to be no easy feat.

Every step he took caused more agony than the last and every breath was forced and shallow. Hope was not but a distant memory and gaiety seems to be a dream long forgotten, akin to the sands of Time slipping through his fingers and death's cold touch caressing his heart and mind...

Aragorn turned to Legolas. The prince was moving, and without complaint, but Aragorn could see the pain and grief which clouded his eyes. The climate had slowly been dropping and it pierced into his very bones, chilling his very mind. Fog had closed in all around them. It muddled all else and drenched them thoroughly. Every limb felt numb which, he supposed, was better than feeling other wounds, some deeper than flesh. Suddenly he could see the dim outline of a large dark forest. The Orcs, apparently, had also just noticed it.

"Ey!"

Groushnak, who had been skulking behind Aragorn, moved ahead. He turned before speaking with another Orc and smiled cruelly.

"It's not far now, human. Soon, soon..."

He laughed, a brusque fetid sound, which was reminiscent of hoarse bark. Aragorn was repulsed as he glared at the Orc, sending looks of venom. Groushnak met the stare of a moment, but quickly turned away, moving forward once more. As he passed Legolas, Groushnak stabbed his fingers into one of Legolas' many wounds.

Aragorn watched Legolas stumble and he had a sudden vision of the elf lying in the dirt; cold... and dead.

The fog had not lessened when they entered the forest; rather it seemed to have gotten worse. Tension surrounded the group and the very air seemed to be charged with electricity. Legolas peered though the fog, but could barely decipher anything past the dark figures of the party and the dark forms of the majestic trees which surrounded them. He was unsure of whether he was acquainted with this part of the forest, or if it was too far south for patrols. Most likely it was, if the destination was to be Dol Guldur. Patrols did not venture near that place any longer. Evil exuded to the point where it hurt their very being. Already he could feel the malignant power in his mind...

Suddenly a call came from the front to stop and make camp. He was thrown to the ground viciously before being bound against a tree. Aragorn was thrown beside him, and two Orcs were left to guard them both. The orcs seemed edgy from the first, as though they were anticipating something.

"We will assemble forces at once," Groushnak ordered, not noticing that even as he spoke, they were closing in around him, their hands gripped tightly around the hilts of their weapons. He looked around. "What are you waiting for?" he barked, though an unnatural tension belied his voice.

"No, Groushnak," growled Ognak, a vicious gleam in his eyes. "We don't take orders from you any longer." He ran his finger along the length of the blade's jagged edge.

Groushnak drew his own sword and held it menacingly before Ognak. "You dare challenge me, fool?"

The Orcs behind Ognak snarled, gathering into a large mass and each drawing their own weapons. Groushnak turned to those who remained.

"Are you also too cowardly you stand behind your leader?" he inquired, his voice holding a dangerous tone. Nervously they lifted their blades and took their places beside him.

There was a prolonged silence as tension was built. The Orcs from both sides growled at the other. Abruptly, Ognak lunged for Groushnak, and the battle began. The sound of a bloody battle resounded through the silence as the sounds of swords clashing and orcs dying reverberated of the tree.

One of the squalid bodies fell before Aragorn's feet and the crude bloody weapon fell beside him. Then, realizing that the guards around them had long abandoned their posts and that the hastily made knot which bound his right hand was coming undone, he seized the opportunity and freed his right hands, then used the blade to free his left. Quickly, he crept silently over to Legolas and began to cut the elf's bonds. When his arms were free they fell limply you his side. He turned to Legolas who was leaning heavily on his shoulder.

"Come," Aragorn whispered, pulling the elf's bloody arm around his shoulders. "Now's our chance."

Helping Legolas to his feet, they stumbled shakily into the forest. After a few minutes, they were far enough away to be not be caught for the moment. Aragorn leaned Legolas against a tree and stat opposite him, the dagger in hand. The Elf coughed heavily, his breathing grew irregular as he struggled to force in air.

"Recover your strength, mellon-nín," Aragorn said, gently attempting to attend to the worst of Legolas' wounds. He was taken aback when the Elf caught his wrist in a surprisingly strong grip.

"No," Legolas said quietly. "It is not worth it."

"Legolas, this is our only chance to make our escape!"

"No, _muindor-nín_. There is no escape for me now... save for one."

Aragorn followed Legolas' gaze to the ground, where the crude dagger lay. His eyes widened. "_Ú-chenion_," he said softly, though in his heart, he knew he did. Only too well.

"You do not wish to. But you know what it is I seek."

"_Im tur-uu... I cannot..."_

"Aragorn, look at me."

Aragorn did look, and felt terrible sorrow at the sight of those spiritless eyes. Again, Legolas spoke.

"Please. For the sake of our friendship. End it quickly, before they find us—you know what will happen if they find us."

He knew. He also knew that if they were discovered, the fate the awaited his friend would undoubtedly make death seem a welcome end.

"Quickly!" whispered Legolas urgently. "Before they find us!"

In his eyes was a serenity that all his suffering would finally end. He gave Aragorn a small smile as his breathing began to slow.

Aragorn picked up the dagger with trembling hands and pointed it towards Legolas' heart...


	5. Chapter 5: Time To Say Goodbye

Ok, so here we are, shamelessly eating Bertie Botts™, Ice Mice™, Acid Pops™, and Droobles Best Blowing Gum™ (Which, by the way, blows horrible bubbles) as we type up this horribly late chapter—laughing our heads off as we go. Note: never eat an Acid Pop™, never eat a sardine flavored jelly bean. In fact, just don't eat sardines.

Our sincerest apologies in the late update, we were excavating some ruins in Egypt when we happened to come across a green orb that was glowing.

Of course, our reaction was: Cool! Green! I wanna touch it! So we touched it. It opened a portal to another dimension in which we were chased by swat ninjas and nearly drowned in a sea of dust bunnies and… what else? Sardines.

_**Important(!):** _We are really sorry about chapter three being gone (somehow, fan fiction dot net managed to delete one of our chapters), but we've checked all of our computers, floppys, and dustbunny hide-aways, and we cannot find the chapter! That chapter took us five hours to type, and fan fiction dot net doesn't even have the back up of the chapter. So we were wondering, even though it's highly unlikely, if any of you readers saved the chapter to your computer? _If you have, please please **please** e-mail us and e-mail the chapter!_ We would be _so_ grateful!

Also, _please note_, reviewers: please don't flood with many reviews saying the same thing over and over. Not only does fan fiction dot net not appreciate this, but neither do we, and neither do other reviewers. Please note this, and sorry if we sound harsh. This was brought to our attention, that someone was flooding, not only by simply noticing, ourselves, but also by a complaint from another reviewer.

We also sincerely hope that if you read _The Mischief of Elves,_ during the limited time that it was up, that you enjoyed it!

Yes, so anyway, we are sorry, and here we go!

Disclaimer: AAAAAAAAAAAAah typing all those a's is fun! We don't like disclaimers, and we don't like sardines, because in our hearts we would like to believe we own the world, except for the sardines. Nor do we own the song below: "Time to say Goodbye" translated from Italian to English. Oh! And kudos to anyone who sees the allusion to _Lost_.

* * *

_  
When I'm alone I dream of the horizon and words fail me.  
There is no light in a room where there is no sun  
and there is no sun if you're not here with me, with me.  
From every window unfurls my heart the heart that you have won.  
Into me you've poured the light,  
the light that you found by the side of the road._

_Time to say goodbye.  
Places that I've never seen or experienced with you.  
Now I shall, I'll sail with you upon ships across the seas,  
seas that exist no more,  
it's time to say goodbye._

_Sarah Brightman, "Time To Say Goodbye"_

* * *

_**  
Chapter 5: Time To Say Goodbye**_

He closed his eyes and turned his head away. "Forgive me," he whispered.

"Forgive me for asking you to do such a thing," Legolas said softly in reply. Then he closed his eyes and waited, ready to let death take him.

Aragorn, on the other hand, found no such tranquility in the task before him. Every time he raised the dagger it was only to lower it once more. How could he slaughter a pure being meant to live forever, even by the elf's request? He could feel tears in his eyes.

Both companions turned abruptly at the sound of hurried footsteps entering the forest, accompanied by loud, infuriated voices.

"Aragorn!" Legolas hissed sharply.

The knife slipped from his grasp. "I cannot…"

Suddenly, Legolas reached out and took the weapon in his own hand. "_Ae aníron nad carnen, han cerithon anim," _he said darkly, raising it.

Aragorn grabbed the blade a second before it plunged into Legolas' chest. Blood streamed through his fingers, more and more as the elf tried mercilessly to jerk it back from him, slicing his hand further. After a few moments of wrestling for it, the dagger went flying. Aragorn lunged for it. Yet as he was just grasping it, an Orc's foot came down on the blade. He looked up to se Ognak's sneering face.

"We're doing things _my _way now," the Orc said cruelly. He clouted Aragorn in the head and drew a sword covered in Groushnak's blood.

The last thing Aragorn saw his world went black were Legolas' eyes, full of piercing hatred.

* * *

"_Man gonoded eraid derithach? Man le caree si? Avo aphado nín…" _

Aragorn slowly came to consciousness, his head throbbing painfully. He felt a dull pain in his hands as Elvish seemed to swirl around in his mind. He opened his eyes blearily and realized the Sindarin was coming from Legolas. He was against a tree, his eyes half closed. The part of the eyes he could see where dull and glazed. The elf was mumbling Elvish deliriously.

"_E ú-'ar hired râd… ú-chenion… mas ha nín muindor? Goheno nín. Estelio nín…" _

Aragorn looked lower and saw the hilt of a dagger sticking of his stomach.

"No," he whispered to himself. "Legolas!" Aragorn tried to move forward to his friend, but found himself restricted—not by ropes, but by chains. Chains that had been attached to a boulder.

Why chains?

"'E'll be dead soon," came Ognak's squalid voice. Aragorn turned to see the Orc leaning against a tree, sharpening a jagged knife. They had been dragged back to the camp. "But I made sure he suffered first."

Ognak only laughed when Aragorn shouted at him every curse he knew in the tongues of Men and Elves. "Shut up," he said admiring his blade and setting down his sharpening stone. He nodded to Ugluk, who then bound Aragorn's legs tightly and secured them to two pegs in the ground. A large wooden club lay near Legolas. Ognak picked it up, then began to walk slowly around Aragorn, making sure the man saw the club from all angles.

"You know that I'm going to kill you," the foul creature said casually. Aragorn snorted.

"I dare you to try," he whispered, his mind on Legolas.

"Brave words," said Ognak, looking over at the elf. "Your friend had them too." He laughed cruelly. Without warning, he brought the club heavily down. It connected with Aragorn's side and a loud sickening crack resounded through the silence. Aragorn winced and ground his teeth, hissing a curse underneath his breath.

"Why were you spying on us? What did you hope to learn?"

Aragorn gave no answer, but stared defiantly at the Orc. "You hit like a pansy," said the young ranger mockingly, a painful smirk coming to his face. If he was trying to infuriate Ognak, it worked. The Orc brought the club down on Aragorn's opposite side. Despite the mind-blowing pain, Aragorn could not help but think, _Well. Two pansies. _

"Who is your master?"

Aragorn just forced a smile to his face.

Ognak lost his temper as he grabbed his sharpened dagger in sudden fury and pointed it at Aragorn.

Aragorn waited for death to take him but, instead, Ognak placed his fingers around Aragorn's jaw, forcing his tongue out.

"Since you're not going to talk, why don't we just cut out your tongue!"

He brought the knife to Aragorn's tongue. Aragorn clenched his hands as he tasted cold blood and metal. Suddenly a yell was heard and Ognak pulled away, fury clear in his twisted eyes.

"What-" he began, but was stunned silent as four horses suddenly charged into the clearing, four elves upon them, ire in their eyes.

"_Hain dago!" _came the cry of the elves as Orcs were killed. Suddenly, he golden-haired Elf stopped as he saw Legolas, his eyes wide with shock. Aragorn watched as a single tear came from Thranduil's eyes, and his sword dropped ground.

Thranduil dropped his sword, his body suddenly chilled with fear.

"Legolas."

Thranduil's vision blurred and he felt himself dismounting his horse and kneeling in the muddy ground. All thoughts were jumbled as he saw his child… his life… broken and nearly dead.

While Thranduil rushed to Legolas' side, Elladan and Elrohir came to their human brother's aid. Their arrows were soon embedded in Ognak's chest. The Orc fell to the ground, and the club slipped from his fingers. Elrond grabbed a key from Ognak's belt and had soon freed the wounded Aragorn from his bonds. Despite his cracked ribs, he used Ognak's sword and battled the many Orcs who were now pouring into the clearing, the twins were alternating; one would shoot while the other would engage in hand-to-hand combat.

Meanwhile, Thranduil had carefully removed the knife from his son's stomach bound the wound with his own cloak to lessen the flow of blood.

"Legolas?" he whispered. "Can you hear me?"

Legolas' eyes looked around blearily, his gaze unfocused. He said nothing for awhile, then looked slowly into his father's eyes.

"Ada?"

Thranduil breathed a sigh of relief and took his son's hand in his own. "I'm here for you, my son."

"Forgive me," he managed to say through labored breaths, tears trekaing down his face. "I have failed you."

"No," Thranduil answered quietly. "It is I who have failed."

"Thranduil!" Elrond called sharply. The battle was going ill; they would soon be overrun. Elladan and Elrohir's arrows were spent.

Reluctantly, the Elvenking left his son's side and joined the fierce battle.

However, they were soon terribly outnumbered. One by one, they fell. Elladan was the first. A group of seven had cornered him, and fight as he may, they were eventually able to bind his arms and legs, though for some reason he was not slain. Elrohir, second, as he tried to save his twin. He attempted to free his brother, but was cornered and bound soon after fell Elrond as he tried to save his sons.

Last fell Thranduil, for a madness came over him as he fought to save his son. Finally an Orc overtook him from the back. They quickly grabbed the chains, which before had held Aragorn and bound the Elvenking with them. Thranduil bit back a yell of fury that he had failed in helping his son escape. He fought desperately against the chains which heed him so that he could help his son. Legolas was hallucinating now, Thranduil could see, as his son called out Gildur's name and deplored him for help.

Thranduil just wanted to end his child's suffering. He suddenly realized he had been sobbing. How could his have happened to his son? He felt nauseated to think that this had happened to his child. He wanted to do no more than to take Legolas in his arms and comfort him. His own breathing was irregular and he could still feel the tears cascading down his face as his body was wracked with sobs. Pride no longer mattered. All that mattered now was saving his son; no matter the cost upon himself.

Struck with the irony of the situation, Thranduil realized that he was captive in the very forest he reigned. No patrols came this far south, that escape route was disbanded before it ever came into being. He had to create some plan, for if it was to extemporaneous, it would fail. Until then, he would not remain quiescent. And when the time came, they would be sorry they had even touched his child! Yes, they would pay for this- and pay dearly.

So were Thranduil's final thoughts before his world went black.

* * *

When Thranduil awoke, he still felt the familiar touch of metal on his wrist, only now the chains led to still bonds on Elrond's arms. Feeling dazed and lightheaded, he looked down the line to see that they had been chained in succession by the wrists and ankles, with Legolas lying at the opposite end from his father. The chains on his wrists were attached to a tree at his side and the cloak with bound his waist was soaked with blood. All were still unconscious save the human on his right. 

The bodies of the dead were piled high off to one side. Those remaining had fathered in a circle and were listening to the direction of Ugluk, their new leader. It hurt Thranduil's ears to listen to their foul language, and he could not understand it.

Aragorn, however, knew enough of the Black Speech from what Gandalf had taught him to comprehend what they were planning. A sick dread rose in his heart.

"Lord Thranduil," he whispered, his heart pounding in his chest.

The Elvenking looked to him, hated and distrust evident in his silver eyes. He said nothing.

Aragorn shifted uneasily, trying to lessen the pain his ribs. "They do not plan to remain in Rhovanion," he continued quietly. "They know that they have captured the King of Mirkwood and lord of Imladris…and plan to take us before their master."

"The Dark Lord," Thranduil breathed. He immediately looked to his son, who had already endured so many hardships and suffered so.

"They're awake!" an Orc reported suddenly. All the Orcs immediately turned. A sneer crossed Ugluk's face as he strode to Aragorn and Thranduil, and they realized that their weapons and belongings had been piled behind where he had been standing. Aragorn was horrified to see the glistening shape of the Ring of Barahir near the bottom.

Ugluk grinned malevolently at his two captive. "The Great Eye will be pleased," he said.

Ugluk's eyes traveled from Legolas to Thranduil and Elrond. He smiled cruelly and laughed.

"Yes, he will be greatly pleased!" he laughed to himself. "And Ugluk shall get the reward!" His smile disappeared as he turned back to his prisoners.

"Get moving!" he snarled. "We don't have forever. And keep a steady pace or you'll suffer the consequences, and I guarantee you won't like them!"

Elrond began to move, but Thranduil remained where was. Shackled together as they were, it stoped al movement.

Ugluk dropped back, a scowl on his face.

"Move, scum!"

Thranduil merely glared at the Orc. "How do you expect him to walk?"

Ugluk glanced at Legolas.

"You're right, scum! We'll just leave him here!"

Thranduil's eyes widened. The prospect of leaving his child to die horrified him.

"No!" Thranduil shouted, then he stopped himself and turned to Ugluk.

Ugluk smiled cruelly. "Whatever you wish," he said. He reached over and yanked Legolas to his feet, laughing mercilessly when he stumbled and the chains which restricted his movement cut into his skin. "It would have been a mercy to leave you here," Ugluk said, taunting the prince. "But your father felt he urge to intervene. And you will find no mercy before my master."

Thranduil bitterly realized the truth behind those words. They were to be taken to he land of shadows, where the monstrous Orcs first came to be. To a land corrupted by darkness and relentless evil, where no elf could survive the torment that awaited them.

Where all were ensnared in the gaze of a great, lidless eye, ever watchful, wreathed in flame.

Thranduil felt terror rise in his heart as he looked at his suffering son. The pain of seeing one he loved so in such a state was overwhelming, and magnified by the knowledge of where they were now headed. He distantly felt chains being pulled, felt himself being forced to walk forward.

No more words were said by the captors nor by their prisoners, and the bed of moss on the forest floor swallowed the sound of their footsteps. Only the threatening crack of a whip could be heard occasionally, and it would resound throughout Rhovanion, a repeating and unyielding reminder of the horrors that lay ahead. The captives kept their faces downcast, for the grim silence somehow spoke louder than words and brought upon them the terrible feeling of hopelessness.

Such was the mood as Aragorn, Legolas, Elrond, Thranduil, Elladan and Elrohir began their trek to the forsaken realm of Mordor.

* * *

Gandalf knew in his heart ha ill fortune had befallen the Elvenking and his companions. He could feel it, hear it in the whisper of the wind. It gave him urgency, and he drove his horse forward. He had known this would happen whether he was there or not and he had left to fetch help. 

Now, with a large group of dangerous Sindar Elves riding behind, hopefully they might save Legolas and the others. If they rode hard, they might be able to corner the Orcs at the edge of the wood, or perhaps even before. It was because of him that they got into this mess and he _would_ see them out of it… he just hoped that he would not be too late.

* * *

His body was on fire and yet felt like ice. Pain controlled his every nerve, and consumed his mind. He was unaware of everything going on around him, and yet, at the same time, he knew just what was happening. He regretted showing such anger and hatred towards Aragorn. If it had been Aragorn asking of him what he had asked, what would he have done? Would he have truly been able to hill his friend? He knew the answer only too well: No… he could not even begin to think of Aragorn dying, whether by his hand, or mortality. That only meant more pain, losing another loved one. Pain was the only thing love ever brought him, whether upon himself, or upon someone that he loved. 

A tear slipped from his eye, unbidden, unexpected, unwanted. He had only survived thus far because of the ranger. Aragorn had held a deep faith in him when he had little faith in himself. Even now, he was alive because of Aragorn, and thought he was grateful to him for having eternal faith in him, Legolas could not help but think that his faith was misplaced. What he did know, was that if he allowed it, Aragorn would he his eternal friend and brother-at-heart.

Legolas felt the tear fall to his chest. Everything now seemed so hopeless… How could he continue like this? The poison from the blade should have dealt him death on swift white wings… but his tortured body, mind, and heart remained resilient. All he truly wished for now, was for his friends and loved ones to be safe… he could not take the constant ache in his heart that shook with shame. The Valar had spared him, this he knew. The Orcs could have done much worse to him—things that could have caused him to wish for death even more so than he did already.

Nay! He would not think of that. He gazed around, but everything remained hazy. He was surprised he was even able to think this well… before all his mind could comprehend was the constant, terrible pain that had burned his very self. Yet, before he could contemplate his understand further, pain shot through his body, consuming all thought again, and as a single moment of clarity was gifted to him, he wondered briefly what poison had been instilled in his body that was prolonging his death so cruelly.

Ugluk stood nearby, eyeing Legolas and holding a whip at ready. Legolas found that he didn't care. BY now, he was nearly accustomed to the stinging pain, to the strange weakness that came from loss of blood. Each step felt like he was dragging weights and the debris on the forest floor cut into his bloody feet.

The journey was one that the prisoners would scarcely remember. It was a blur of countless days that followed a pattern of repetition. There were brief rests in which they were forced to consume the fetid food and drink of their captors. Those rests were hardly better than the long hours they spent being driven forward ruthlessly. Just as the dreams that sometimes came upon them were even worse than the waking agony of a nightmare that they were forced to endure.

One of the Orcs had gone ahead, and had hoisted himself into a tree and was looking out in all directions as far as he could see; which was not very far. Despite this, he could make out all the distant movement of horses through the trees.

"We are being tracked!" he yelled.

A murmur and commotion rose. The Orcs knew of course, that the party must be elves of Mirkwood, and that they stood no chance again mounted Elven warriors.

Orcs are very disagreeable creatures, and many somewhat dull-witted; they bickered among themselves for a great amount of time before realized that it was getting them nowhere. Ugluk commanded that they remain silent.

"They're good trackers," he said with anger and disgust. "They'll be able to follow our trail, wherever we go."

"Let them follow," muttered another. "It will mean nothing once we reach the Land of Shadow."

Ugluk glared at him. "They are on horseback, fool. How long do you think it will before they overtake us? No. We must go off course and confuse the Elven scum into going the wrong direction."

Obviously, Ugluk was among the more intelligent Orcs. The rest had not the fainted idea as to how this was to be accomplished. He grew somewhat impatient.

"We have to split up!" he said. "Half of us will continue on our planned route with three of the prisoners. The rest must break off and go to Dol Guldur. It's the only way."

After the others made sense of the plan, they consented. Aragorn felt his heart sink. Certainly, the latter road made more sense than the one to Mordor… would the Elves fall for the trap? He looked over at the wins, at Legolas. If they were separated, there would be no way of knowing what fate had befallen the others. He just hoped, for everyone's sake, that Elladan and Elrohir were not separated.

"I will lead the host to Mordor," Ugluk said. He then chose who would go with him. Once the two groups were decided, the Orcs turned to their prisoners.

"Which three have the honor of traveling with me?" Ugluk wondered aloud, a sinister grin spread over his face. Legolas' eyes were downcast as Ugluk passed by him. He knew in his heart which road he would be traveling.

Ugluk returned to the other Orcs and spoke some words to them. They listened, then a few came forth bearing a second line of chains. One of the Orcs undid Legolas' bonds, then forced him mercilessly to his feet. The Orc bound Legolas' wrists, then pulled out a knife and pressed the cold steel to the elf's neck. He nodded at Elrond and Thranduil.

"Release those two," he said. "If they give us any trouble at all…" He pressed the blade harder, drawing a trickle of blood. "…he dies."

Legolas watched as Elrond and his father meekly accepted the new set of chain, their eyes full of anger and despair. He felt himself being chained as well.

Legolas cast one last look at Aragorn as the Orcs began to lead him away. Their eyes locked, and Legolas looked for any sign of hope, the slim amount that he had always seen in their before, the small flame that had kept a small spark of hope in his own mind, but found none. Aragorn's eyes were brimming with tears… and Legolas could not help but blame himself.

At the same time, he briefly wondered if Aragorn, or the twins, his father… if anyone would miss him, if he were to be killed. He would gladly sacrifice himself if it meant that they would be free, if they would be allowed the chance at freedom—the chance at life. Even if he was to be the sacrifice, if he could be the one thing that would give them life… if he would ever be remembered… if he would ever be missed.

He wondered, at that moment, as the darkness of the trees enclosed him and he continued his journey to Mordor, if he would ever see Aragorn again… or if, like with Gildur, he and his mortal brother were about to be separated forever.

* * *

The sound of thundering hoof beats could be heard even from a distance. Gandalf kept a steady pace, and the elves followed and kept up without questions. He was driving his exhausted stallion to its absolute limit. 

They had found the trail, which was still pretty fresh. That was a good sign. At least it indicated, as Gandalf had hoped, that they were catching up.

As night was beginning to fall and stars lit the blackness of the sky above the thick, tangled, labyrinth of branches above them, they arrived at a clearing in the woods—and the sight was shocking. Corpses of Orcs were pilled high in a far corner and had been left to decay. The stench was horrid, and nearly overwhelming. Some weapons and armor that had been too heavy to carry had been thrown in a heap nearby.

Gandalf and a few of the Sindar Elves dismounted and began to examine their surroundings.

Gandalf began to rummage through the pile of belongings. He worked quickly and efficiently. Every now and then he would find something small that suggested the elves had been there, and towards the bottom he began to uncover the weapons of Thranduil, Elrond, Elladan, and Elrohir.

"Have you found something, Mithrandir?" asked one of the elves, crouching down beside him, giving off a faint light.

Gandalf nodded grimly. "It is as I feared," he said, showing the elf the weapons and armor. "They have been taken captive."

A strange emotion flashed through the Elf's jaded eyes. "Then we must continue along the trail."

"Yes," the Istar replied, an odd tone in his voice that was directed towards the Elf. "Give the command for the others to mount."

As the Elf did this, Gandalf noticed a small object glimmering as his staff emitted a beam of light towards it. He picked it up and felt his heart ease slightly. The Ring of Barahir. Whatever had happened, the Orcs knew nothing of Aragorn's true identity. It seemed that they Orcs were moving steadily in the direction of Dol Guldur. However, he made not any assumptions since one occasionally, however rare it might be, came across the cunning Orc; and he, Gandalf, would take no chances while his friends' lives were on the line.

Gandalf saw the elves had gathered the weapons and had taken them. They were now scouting the area.

"Mithrandir!" cried an Elf—the same Elf as before. "The trail continues south."

Gandalf gazed down the dark path ahead of them. The Elves leapt atop their horses as Gandalf mounted his horse. The Elf, called Sidh, led the company. His eyes were keen upon the rail ahead, determined to fine the tracks which led to the prince, which led to his friend. Gandalf rode up beside him.

"Lead on."

Sidh nodded curtly, as thought his thoughts were elsewhere. Gandalf was not surprised, and he said nothing. He knew this elf to be a friend of Legolas'… at least he had been before Legolas had withdrawn from the world after his brother had died.

The other elves followed Sidh's lead. The forest seemed to be growing darker and more ominous. When Mirkwood grew darker, it could mean only one thing: Dol Guldur.

* * *

Pain does not lie. 

Nor is it truly possible to lie about pain, for it consumes one thoughts and distracts one from all else. One cannot go through a certain amount of suffering and be not changed. Yet pain can be made more bearable when one is with those who one loves, and when that is taken away, the dreaded pain seems to close in with dark persistence.

The other thing pain causes, for one who has suffered for a long amount of time, is shame. Shame that another being is able to inflict this much pain on not only one's body, but also upon one's soul and mind. It builds a slow burning shame in one's heart… slowing eating away and forcing one to become of mere shell of who they once were.

This was the path two of the regal Elves would soon embark upon and the path that the other had been stumbling down for what seemed to be eternity.

Pain was the meaning of Mordor.

If any of the company of Elf and Man lived through of the horrors which lay before them, it would be only through the grace of Ilúvitar.

"Keep moving, scum!" snapped an Orc angrily.

A whip cracked menacingly about them like the slow premonitory rumblings of thunder—the booming thunder which could only mean a long, cold storm. The storm that was so much like the doom which filled their heart and the inevitable doom which lay before them, as one thought filled all of their minds: there would be no escape now.

* * *

_**  
Ae aníron nad carnen, han cerithon anim- **If I want something done, I'll do it myself. _

**_Sidh_- **_(The Elf's name)—peace _


	6. Chapter 6: Slaves of Darkness

We're sorry. We still love you… do you love us? Oh well, read it anyway.

Disclaimer: We claim a dis.

* * *

**Chapter 6: Slaves of Darkness**

The forest had grown so dark that it was impossible to tell night from day, and every tree, every path, looked exactly the same. The Orcs paid little heed to their prisoners. After all, by being appointed to the Dol Guldur path, they had been robbed of the chance to gain importance by presenting their master with a prize. They did not know that _they _held the one Sauron truly sought. Aragorn, however, seemed to be of little importance, and they did not draw much pleasure from taunting him.

The prisoners were not allowed to communicate. Aragorn and the twins could only exchange glances, and Aragorn could see despair in Elladan and Elrohir's eyes. No doubt the two brothers had heard many more tales of horror about Dol Guldur and knew the fate that would befall them. Aragorn wished he could say he was sorry—sorry that they would now be tortured and, most likely, killed because of him. Most of all, he wished that he could see Legolas again. He wished he could speak with Legolas again, just one last time; laugh with him just one last time.

Aragorn knew dark paths lay ahead of them both. He also knew that Sauron was searching for him; always he was seeking out the Heir of Isildur. His secret was more than safe with the three noble Elves. It was the torture that he feared they might be put through in search of him or his name: Aragorn…

Unconsciously rubbing his finger where his ring normally was, he wondered, not for the first time, whether Gandalf had found the Ring of Barahir. It had been a major risk he had taken, leaving the ring. The idea had come to him as he saw Thranduil wearing Legolas' chain. He remembered Legolas carefully placing the golden leaf so that it faced Rhovanion with its tip. Aragorn had tried to do the same with his ring.

Such monotony accompanied by tormented thought dragged on for two more long days, which would, in the future, run in jumbled fragments through the minds of the captives. Their eyes were growing accustomed to the unwelcome absence of daylight. Upon coming to this realization, the image of Gollum came to Aragorn's mind, and he remembered eyes pale and lamplike, grown so from long hours of shying from the sun.

Lost in his thoughts, Aragorn did not realize his pace had been slowing until the sharp crack of a whip sounded and a searing pain shot through his back. The young ranger stumbled—more from the shock of the whip than the pain. Elladan looked for a moment as though he might say something, but Aragorn shook his head sharply. The raven-haired elf hung his head again, subdued by the fact that he could not help either of his younger brothers.

"Keep up!" snapped the Orc who had whipped Aragorn. He waved a club threateningly at the prisoners as if to say "or else!" Aragorn almost smiled, thinking "been there, done that". Then he really did smile, remembering the first time the same Orc had done that to he, Aragorn, and Legolas. The prince had "tripped" on the way out of his cell, knocking over an Orc and then blithely saying that the Orcs really should consider new flooring or reconsider his feet shackles.

At the time, Aragorn had not found it amusing; he had been deathly scared for Legolas' life. Yet now, he felt that these creatures deserved nothing more than mockery, and that even in these forsaken hours, laughter could replace a little bit of the pain and fear. Aragorn needed that right now. He had grown used to hearing yet not listening, to touching yet not feeling…he had become detached from reality to such an extent that laughter seemed but a distant dream, to be clung to lest he should never smile again.

Somehow, the pain was less severe now when the whip came down on his back. Aragorn supposed that he could credit this to the fact that so much torment had already numbed him, and that any more served only as a reminder of it. At least this loss of sensation allowed some of his rational thought to return. He wondered if Legolas was feeling the same thing…but the elf had been through so much more that it seemed inconceivable to know what he might be thinking.

Though, he would have been surprised to find that even in the most dire of situations, the hearts and mindsets of two who are so bound by friendship will remain true, and at that moment Legolas was thinking of him as well, while walking with downcast eyes on an endless, forsaken road onto which no starlight shone.

* * *

Aragorn was still in his own realm of thought when the chains about him went taut and he was jerked to a halt. He blinked, focusing on his surroundings as he went from the seclusion of his mind to reality. Elladan was looking at him, concern in his eyes, while Elrohir's gaze was locked on the sight before them. When Aragorn looked ahead as well, a fearful awe overtook him.

From the decaying forest floor there rose a dark fortress. It protruded through the cover of scraggly trees, built with stone blacker than shadow. It was massive; the expanse covered by its width was dwarfed only by its magnificent height. The very aura marked this structure as a place of evil.

How strange it seemed to him that he would be in awe of the very same place that would show him his death. The monstrous structure loomed up before him as his unwilling feet drew him nearer. He wondered briefly if he would ever gaze upon the sky again or upon his friends, family…Arwen…Strange thoughts for an exiled ranger yet, perhaps not so strange for a man condemned to death.

Elrohir's eyes remained somewhat dull and had a dazed look about them. Elladan's sharp grey eyes, however, were not dazed but distant and the elf had the distinct air of one not all there. Elladan had lived many millennia and had, no doubt, seen too much strife. Aragorn realized that the elf had distanced himself from reality quite skillfully and on purpose. Elrohir was most likely doing the same. What seemed like an eternity to men was a mere second to the eldar; Aragorn knew this. Yet in the darkness that torture drowned one in, Aragorn had seem the light leave from legolas' eyes…he had seen how each passing moment of darkness weighed heavier on the immortal's soul.

Would the same fate now befall his elven brothers? Had he, Aragorn, condemned so many immortal souls to a mortal fate? Did the blame lie with him at all?

A yank on the chain started them forward again, and Aragorn felt a sense of impending doom.

* * *

Once inside, the weight of their bonds was removed. Around them, the structure's black walls rose, cast with the familiar, wavering reflection of torchlight. How he had come to loath torches. They now brought illumination to the interior of the grand but terrible stronghold, yet it seemed to Aragorn that even dead darkness was less devoid of light. Orcs and other servants of Sauron were about; in fact, the place was full of them, and they seemed to blend into a single mass, becoming one with the fortress. Glowing, piercing eyes directed their gazes at these new prisoners—many vicious grins accompanied those stares as well. to Aragorn, it seemed that their eyes would pass right over him, lingering with awoken vengeance on the twins. Aragorn hung his head wearily, wincing as he gazed upon his chafed wrists. His pale skin was raw and bloody. An unyielding grip clamped down on his upper arm, and Aragorn could hot, reeking breath on his neck as he was steered forward through the crowds. He kept glancing back at Elladan and Elrohir. Fear rose within him; he could not bear to see anyone else he cared for cast into pointless torment.

They were led through many pathways, all of which differed little in their fallen existence, yet dungeons still did not come into view. What were they playing at? If not for amusement, what purpose did innocent prisoners serve?

He came to the realization abruptly.

Slavery.

They would be forced to work in these halls, adding to the prosperity of those who had spelled out their fate. By compliance, they would be aiding the enemy. What worse mockery was there of beauty?

With this knowledge now in hand, the barrier that Aragorn had been struggling to hold up crashed, leaving him powerless against such ruthless cruelty. Aragorn turned to Elladan, but the elf remained steadfast—his eyes looking to a place Aragorn could not see.

An unwelcome urge to shout at this unfairness struck him. How could his brother's just allow this to happen? Aragorn understood the resignation in their eyes. They had known what was going to happen long ago. Why had they done nothing?

The sound of a lock being shut abruptly broke through his angry thoughts. The sound had become familiar to him—too familiar. An Orc touched his arm and Aragorn jerked back at the repulsive touch. The Orc called Shlûgdush backhanded the young ranger across his face and gripped his arm. He then placed two metal armbands on him, one on each chafed wrist.

The cold metal brought with it unwelcome memories of the torture of Legolas. The young ranger resisted the urge to vomit, detesting the idea of the helplessness he would feel.

The metal was not heavy, but rubbed mercilessly against his raw wrists. As he looked up, he saw metal bands being placed on the brothers' arms as well. in a moment, they, too, were done. A man now walked in. His face had black markings, emphasized greatly by cold, black eyes. His skin was tanned extremely dark and his mouth looked to be fixed in a permanent cruel sneer. The jaggedly cut, dark brown hair ended at his shoulders. The man was dressed in a bloodied brown tunic, hanging over black britches. In his hand he carried what looked to be a long black pole. He was called Thaur, and was the slavemaster of Dol Guldur.

The presence of the man seemed to make the air fouler and a fetid smell filled his nostrils. The twins' masks had at last been dropped; both of the young lords of Imladris now seemed sick. Aragorn had no doubt that he was the only person in Middle-earth who hadn't heard of this man.

Thaur opened his mouth to speak, revealed ugly, strangely pointed teeth, but his voice was surprisingly normal, even somewhat lilting. Aragorn found himself unable to turn away, repulsed even as he was forced to watch the man. Thaur broke eye contact and, beside him, Aragorn heard the sound of knees hitting the hard stone floor. The sound of detached laughter then pounded in his ears.

Horrified, Aragorn turned to look, afraid of what he would see, but found he had no control over his own body. Thaur now walked to him, holding a large metal ring in his hands. Aragorn was not so naïve in the cruelties of the world that he did not know what was to come. Thaur opened the ring at the sides and stepped a few inches away from Aragorn's face. The stench of his breath made the young man dizzy as Thaur reached around his neck and shut the ring…the collar.

Aragorn had been marked as a slave. He was now worth less than the blood on the slavemaster's shirt.

A cold laugh reached Aragorn's ears.

* * *

How long had they been walking? 

Time had passed so easily before, now bow Legolas found that even with the sky above them he could not differentiate between night and day. One of his lifetimes was passing before him and would soon be lost. There were no longer extremes, tones of black and white—everything existed perpetually in a drifting midland of hazy gray. It was always the same. It always hurt. The spectrums of the world had faded and were on the brink of perishing.

They had, some time ago, passed the border of Mirkwood so that they were no longer shrouded by its dark cover. Now an endless world opened up around and made even the group of Orcs, defiled and wrought with evil as they were, seem small and insignificant. Mountains rose in the distance. Legolas could not distinguish them, nor recall to which they belonged but he knew they were there because memory said that they should be. He supposed they were beautiful. They would be capped with snow, if it was the season that permitted such, and touched with swirling mists. At the dawning of day they would be cast in hues of radiant gold and red from the early sun.

How he missed the glory of the sun.

_I prefer the stars to the sun. With glaring brilliance, the sun can burn and blind, and its moments of true beauty are only at its coming and going. But stars… they twinkle ever so softly, breaking night's shadow as though in quiet mockery, so that we never forget that there is always light—even in darkness. It may be that I'll not see eternity. If it should come to that, look to the stars, and I will be there. _

Those words, spoken so long ago in days of mirth and blossoming lands, returned to him then, as he walked in despondence surrounded and yet alone. He turned his head up to the sky. No stars shone now to show the way… and perhaps they would never shine again. He tried to think of Gildur, but could not concentrate. Even that harbor of pleasant memories was taken from him.

Where the strength to walk came from Legolas could only guess. He was vaguely aware of the presence of Elrond and his father. Seeing two Elven lords reduced to a level of compliance and helplessness pained him, and knowing that weakness caused scars deeper than wounds for Thranduil, he refused to meet the Elvenking's eyes.

_Me and my foolish need to prove myself._

"We're going too slow, Ugluk!" The Orc speaking savagely yanked the cahin. "Make 'em walk, or teach 'em to crawl! Maybe we can leave the useless one—he ain't no good to anyone."

Legoals distantly felt a small tingle of emotion He resented being called useless.

Ugluk seemed to contemplate this for a moment. He halted the group's movement, and when they stopped, Legolas had to use every ounce of his willpower to keep his legs from giving way. Keeping his eyes on the ground, the elf waited. A dark form soon loomed before him. He was tainted by his shadow, by its fetid breath, and scarred by its appraising laughter. Ugluk's hand grabbed him roughly by the shoulder. Legolas shuddered involuntarily at the touch, but showed no resistance as he was judged. As eyes swept over him, he felt exposed, and tried to let his mind wander to a place far away, where there was laughter and singing—innocent merriment beneath light of stars and sun.

"Get 'im some draught, and 'e'll make it. These wretches don't die so easy."

_Does that surprise you, creature of darkness? Does it surprise **you**, father? Does not being dead yet at least somewhat prove that I am not all weakness? _

Still burdened, he wondered fleetingly why Ugluk even bothered dragging him along. He was of much less worth as a prisoner than Elrond or Thranduil, and was becoming a hindrance to their progress, so why keep him? To what purpose would it serve?

Maybe he would rather be left in ignorance.

A grim smile touched his lips. Ignorance of what? What ignorance—what innocence—he had had of the world's cruelties were lost. His naivety of the goodness of the world had been torn from him…tortured out of him. Had they broken him? Had Legolas been so weak as to succumb to their torture? He had read of the worst torture inflicted upon his ancestors. Every elf knew of Feanor, of his brother, of Morgoth. And yet, Legolas knew worse torture exists. There were yet ways to strip Legolas further of what innocence he had left.

"Pick up the pace," growled the Orc beside him. He cracked his whip, but his eyes betrayed his action—he could not afford to disobey Ugluk's direct orders and punish Legolas; not when the wounded prince was already on death's door.

Were not the levity of the situation so somber, Legolas would have laughed as the irony of the entire situation hit him. The Orcs were every bit as captive as the elves to Ugluk. Yet what worth Legolas was to the repulsive Orc continued to bemuse him. Perhaps he had no wroth and now existed solely for the purpose of being a trophy—and what a lovely trophy he made!

_What is worth? _Thought Legolas. _To the Orc I am worth nothing, to my father I am worth Mirkwood, and to myself…? _

Legolas found that at long last he had become numb; he no longer cared. What tears should have come were nonexistent in dry, dull, blood-shot eyes. What terror should have been slowly filling his heart, dread the slow poison flowing through his veins—they were not there. Hate, fear, affection, these were all lost somewhere in his struggle to survive. Yet what was life that had no heart, nor soul, nor emotions? What good was a life that dreamt not, hoped not, cared not—an empty shell; a mockery of what true life had once existed in the body.

Once these were lost in what allowed the slow decay of time, once passion was lost, what is left? He was his own intrinsic values, his own love, his own hate. How had he lost himself in his struggle to survive without realizing it?

Legolas felt his head abruptly jerked back and the Orc beside him laughed. Legolas slowly raised his eyes to the Orc, wary of what he would now see. Clutched in the grotesque hands of the Orc shone a single golden braid, _his _golden braid. His warrior braid. Legolas leaned his head forward in resignation. Jaggedly cut hair fell across his face for the first time in centuries.

The Orc laughed again, pleased with himself for finding a way to punish Legolas for his slow pace.

"Walk faster, worthless scum, else you find your other two…missing," said the Orc. He had apparently forgotten what braids were called.

Ugluk stopped and glared at the Orc beside Legolas, annoyance glittering in his dead eyes. "You, imbecile; thought I told you to give 'im draught! Now quit taunting 'im and do what I say!"

The Orc bowed his head submissively, but Legolas could see in his expression an undying lust for vengeance and power. It was reminiscent of both Ognak and Ugluk, who had both challenged and eventually defeated their superiors. Was this some absurd system of hierarchy, based on strength and bloodshed? The followers seemed to each be lying in wait for their own chance at supremacy. But, then again, they were all just slaves in the end, slaves who cowered in fear before the Dark Lord as he reigned from his tower of eternal fire and death, slaves who begged to be spared even though their lives were not living.

_How ironic, then, that these slaves have become my masters…and if Sauron treats his minions with such brutality, how does he treat his prisoners? _

Legolas braced himself as a rough hand gripped his chin and held a dark vial, encrusted with filth, to his lips. Obediently, he opened them. The contents that spilled down his throat re-awakened the sensation of taste with a jolt. His eyes went wide with the shock of how strong it was; how disgusting it was (an aspect in which it had surpassed all of his expectations). The process of forcing it down an aching, dry, unwilling throat was painful, and nearly impossible. But the Orc's grip was unyielding.

Legolas swallowed it and welcomed release from his enemy's fierce hold.

The draught was mean tot help heal him. It was meant to send a rush of warm energy coursing through him, so that he might continue on, even in this broken state of being. But Legolas felt no such thing. As he began to move forward again, he felt its unsettling presence within him, and he was sickened by it. Keeping it down was a battle in itself.

The Orcs, however, apparently did believe that their concoction had served its purpose, and did not relent as they pressed onward.

"Legolas…"

Thranduil's quiet voice was pleading, but the prince did not look his way.

* * *

Some hours passed…how many passed, only Eru knew. At that time, the slow progress that they were making came to a halt as some shade was once again available in the form a small, scarcely wooded area. The Orcs stepped in among those scraggly trees gladly—not even they could go on tirelessly, no matter how they longed to reach their destination and present Sauron with his prize.

They began their demolition of the vegetation nearest to them. Even young trees, innocent and non-assuming, were broken and ignited with a fatal blaze before ever having a chance at life. As Legolas looked at those fires, it was as though he could see his own life unfurling within their depths: he was that creature just beginning to know the world, cut down as he fought to prove himself and cast into the searing abyss of pain and destruction.

The prisoners were just now being brought into the area, after the hose of Orcs, so that Legolas' view of the life-fed flames was from afar. Yet even as his stare remained fixed upon them, his thoughts drifted to a sentiment he had not felt in far too long: relief. Valar… how long had it been since they last rested? For so many days he had been walking, walking semi-consciously down and ill-trodden path, walking endlessly towards his doom.

They were so close now. The chains seemed leaden, desiring nothing more than to drag Legolas down. His legs were trembling now… begging to collapse.

_Just a bit further. I've come too far to fall…_

But the will of darkness opposed Legolas' determination. Worse, it felt like unspoken mockery. His wounds began to ache worse than ever, and he struggled to keep his legs from buckling… until, this close to reprieve, they gave way.

In answer to some nonexistent, humiliating demand that called for resignation, he fell.

He had thought himself past them, but still they came. Tears of humiliation fell, burning his previously extremely dry eyes. As if to make the fall the epitome of his failure, the Orc beside him saw the tears.

"Look 'ere! The scum is crying!" exclaimed the Orc, cackling. He kicked Legolas' side, pushing him to his back so that all present could see the evidence of humiliation upon the prince's face. Loud laughter of mockery coursed through Legolas' ears. An unnoticed tear slid down Thranduil's face as he gazed upon the broken body of his son.

Ugluk snapped around to face the cause of the laughter, glaring at the other Orcs.

"Keep up to pace, fools! The Dark Lord expects the prisoners and His wrath shall be on your heads! Get the prisoner moving—the Great Eye wants him the most and in health enough to take what He needs from the scum!"

Though the laughter ceased, the Orcs glared resentfully at their "leader". They had been traveling non-stop; they deserved a little fun at the expense of the prisoner! They roughly attempted to make Legolas stand up, yet it seemed the same Legolas had built around his emotions had broken around where he had partitioned himself from pain. Their crude handling sent waves of nausea through his frail and abused body. As soon as he made it to his feet, he promptly fell to his knees, and the draught he had been forced to drink, poison to an elf, came back up. Yet where the Orcs thought it would heal him, it had actualloy reopened his wounds. Legolas fell to the ground as spasms of coughing racked his body, producing yet more blood.

Thranduil fell to the ground beside Legolas, taking and holding his son's body close as he whispered soothing words.

"If you want him to survive at all, he needs water," said Thranduil coldly, shaking with fury.

Surprisingly, Ugluk obliged giving Thranduil a skin of water. Though Thranduil knew it was only because Sauron wanted Legolas healthy and strong enough to be "persuaded" to talk, he thanked the Valar all the same. He poured the liquid into his son's mouth, trying to ignore the whimpers that issued from his mouth as it fell past cracked, bloody lips, and his dry, aching throat. Legolas had at last succumbed to the infection of his wounds and the mental and psychological strain. His eyes rolled up in his head as he fell unconscious.

Ugluk growled, gnashing his teeth furiously.

"We rest here tonight," he snapped. "Get to work! You!" He turned to the Elves. "Make yourselves useful! Wake him up!"

After much quarreling, the camp was at last set up. Then, argument renewed as the subject of what to do with the prince came up.

"The Magi," said one, licking his lips. He was referring to an evil sorcerer in Sauron's employ.

"It will take too long!" said another. "He is weak! He won't last long with his scratches!" he cackled.

Another grinned at this, a smile that clearly showed evil intentions behind it. It was the Orc that had mocked Legolas earlier. "'is wounds are open, so why don't we close 'em?" He laughed again and the Elves cringed at the grating noise. He grabbed his sword and put it in the fire, taking it out after a few moments of tense silence where some of the dimmer Orcs made sense of this logic and the brighter contemplated how much of a threat he was. Elrond and Thranduil understood immediately and watched in intense fear as the Orc took his sword out of the fire.

It was now glowing white hot.

He grinned again and maneuvered it so that it hovered over Legolas' body.

* * *

The darkness had engulfed them as the door slammed shut. Elrohir desperately tried to see through the darkness but found his Elven sight failed him here in this wretched place. He panicked for the first time since they had been brought here. The last time he and his brother had been tossed into such evil darkness was when they had been trying to avenge their mother's brutal torture at the hands of the Orcs. However, they had been young and easily fell into a trap which had almost lost them their lives. It most certainly destroyed what innocence they had had. Elladan brought his twin back to the present as he found his hand, whispering softly to him. As he calmed, Elrohir began to call for Aragorn, using his ranger name. 

"Strider? Strider?" He kept his voice low, for there was no telling who might be listening.

The voice that answered was pained and weak, and seemed to be laden with countless sorrows. "I'm here, 'Ro."

Elrohir sighed, both out of relief and frustration. The stroke of a whip lash was far less daunting than these moments of uncertain waiting. He crept forward in the dark, reaching for his little brother with one hand and keeping hold of Elladan with the other. The elder twin followed Elrohir's movements complacently. Finally, they stumbled upon Aragorn, who was lying against one of the walls for support.

"Estel," Elrohir said under his breath. His mortal brother's hand was cold as he took it in his own.

"'Ro, 'Dan…it's all my fault. All of this is because of my incompetence…because I can't be trusted to carry out a simply mission."

Elrohir was at a loss for words. What comfort was there to offer? Estel had always been quick to blame himself for every misfortune, and he constantly put the weight of the world on his shoulders. Elrohir did not think that he would be able to sway the young man's opinion. How could he give hope and encouragement in such a situation?

Luckily, he wouldn't have to.

Their eyes were beginning to accommodate to the shadow, and Elrohir watched the form of Elladan sidle up to their mortal brother. The oldest son of Elrond had always borne a protective, fatherly quality, which was what Aragorn needed at the moment.

"Estel?" whispered Elladan.

The ranger's tone was dejected as he responded. "What?"

"Would I ever lie to you about an important truth?"

"Nay, of course not."

"Then I will not lie to you now. Listen to my words, and do not doubt their honesty:

"None of this is your fault. We all question why people must suffer as they do, but ultimately, no individual is to blame. Naturally, I am blaming myself as well right now—but there is a part of me that speaks otherwise, and that is what keeps me sane. Deep inside, you know that this is not a consequence of your actions. The only way to change the future is to not dwell on the past.

"Right now, the three of us have to concentrate on our future. We may be captives, slaves in the darkness, but I would rather be in chains with my brothers than in a paradise full of strangers. We have each other. Isn't that what matters? I know that together, we can overcome this, but even if things do go ill, we will stand by one another 'til the end, for none of us is alone in this war."

There was a pause, as both Aragorn and Elrohir processed Elladan's words. Finally, the human spoke in a barely-audible whisper.

"But, Legolas and Father…they're alone."

Elladan thought for a moment before replying. "Do you think about them, Estel?"

"Every day."

"We do as well. So, in a way, they're not really alone."

After that, none of them said anything. The three brothers drew together in an embrace that made them all feel like children again. There, in the utter darkness, they clung to one another, and in doing so, they held on to the only thing they had left: their fraternal love.

Far away, the sky was layered in hues of blue, white, and gray. A minimal amount of sunlight shone down on trees whose leaves had dulled to a dusty brown. An elvenking watched as his son screamed and cried, and remembered days when he had been able to comfort his son's tears—right now, he could only be a helpless bystander. A wizard rode through the night and prayed that he would not be too late. Wind passed over everything, causing even sleeping creatures to stir. All the world moved. Every single heartbeat was important to the future.

So much was happening, but it was so far away… and none of it reached Elladan, Elrohir, and Estel, because for few blessed moments, they were in secluded world.


End file.
